Part III: Exile to America
by angeli0722
Summary: Prequel -- Post-MWPP era. After the events of Halloween, 1981, the survivors deal with the aftermath of the Dark Lord's fall. Forced into exile together, Severus Snape & Isabelle Evans must learn to adapt to their new culture. Also has HP, HG, & OC's.
1. Ch 1: Children Go Their Separate Ways

**Author's Note:** Don't own Harry Potter, though I wish I did.

This is my strange take on the Marauder era, though this & Part 4 are technically Post-MWPP. I started writing this fic about a year or so before OoP came out, so it is definitely from _that _particular era. So, sorry if parts of the fic are utterly cliche now, but they weren't when I started this fic!

This fic will make absolutely no sense if you haven't read Parts 1 & 2. So, if you haven't already, go check them out, 'k? The Prologue's fun, while you're at it.

In this section, I send a couple characters to America in exile, where they have to adjust to a foreign culture. I know that reeks of Mary Sue-ism, but it's really not. I simply needed somewhere to send them, & the former colonial areas of Virginia seemed like cool wizarding areas to explore. Besides, the idea of Snape in a sub-par apartment complex was far too funny to pass up!

The Prequels make sense by themselves, but I think that it'd probably be better to go to my author page, start with my first fic, my Year 5 one, then work your way back through the prequels. That's what several of my readers tell me is the easiest way to understand everything off the bat is. But, if you like a little mystery, read on! All will most definitely be revealed...

Sorry if Parts 3 & 4 aren't posted up here or finished when you get to them; I'm working backwards from my Year 5. So eventually, I guess you'll end up there with unanswered questions!

Please don't forget the lovely Review button at the bottom of your screen...

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**Chapter 1**

A narrow beam of light shone through tightly closed curtains, waking up Isabelle. She instinctively rolled over and pulled the covers over her head to sleep a little longer. Suddenly, the previous night's events flooded her mind and she sat up, alarmed. She jumped up, looking wide-eyed at her surroundings.

She stood in a small, rectangular stone room. A brightly burning fire roared in the fireplace, taking away the late fall chill. Beside the bed sat a small portable crib that contained a peacefully sleeping Gracie. Not wanting to disturb the baby, she quietly crept to a table set up in the corner with various snacks and drinks. She grabbed a glass of pumpkin juice and a piece of toast, settling in front of the fire.

Before she could fully wake up to wonder what was going on, a herd of feet stampeded past her. Loud, joyous voices filtered through the heavy door, but Isabelle couldn't make out a single word anyone said. Frustrated, she returned to staring at the fire.

Early this morning, around three thirty, Severus snuck the three of them into the castle using a secret entrance that Isabelle suggested. Using the cover of night, they crept to Dumbledore's office, where he was surprised to see them, at the very least. After hearing their story, he led the girls to a room where they could rest. Then, he and Severus disappeared, and haven't been back yet.

She didn't know how long she had sat on the rug when she heard a series of clicks. An extremely somber looking Professor Dumbledore walked into the room. When his eyes met hers, she instantly knew that something was horribly wrong.

"What is it?" she asked tensely.

He smiled kindly at the teenager. Ever since her first day at Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore had had a soft spot for Isabelle Evans. No matter what she did, he knew that she possessed a truly gentle and caring spirit. Which is why he turned a blind eye to most of her pranks and wild behavior.

"Well," he began in soothing tone, "there was a Death Eater attack last night."

She frowned. "But, I know that. Mr. Snape saved us from the attack."

"Yes, and no. A group of Death Eaters was about to attack your house to kill you and little Grace, when they heard about the results of another attack. They got scared, and left."

"Where was the other attack?" She closed her eyes tightly. Professor Dumbledore put his hand over hers.

"Your sister Lily's house." He heard her sharp gasp, and paused for a second before continuing. "Lord Voldemort found the location of the Potters' house, and killed Lily and James."

"What about Harry?" she asked in a tight voice, blankly staring at the fire.

"Miraculously, he survived." He briefly explained as much of the events of the previous night as he knew, firmly believing that she needed to know the whole truth. When he finished, she nodded tensely.

"And Sirius?"

"The Ministry of Magic took him into custody about an hour ago. They're questioning him now."

Isabelle's head whipped around. "Questioning him? For what?"

"For betraying the Potters to Lord Voldemort," Professor Dumbledore said quietly.

"Betraying?" she repeated. "He wasn't the Secret-Keeper, I swear. It was Peter Pettigrew. I was there when they performed the charm."

"Unfortunately, Peter won't be able to confirm or deny your story." He told her about how Sirius attacked and murdered Peter in broad daylight, killing several Muggles in the process.

"Professor Dumbledore, Sirius may be a bit of a loose cannon, but he would never hurt innocent people. He's being set up by Peter to take the fall for my family's deaths," she said emphatically.

"Hmm," he mused. "Your story is identical to Sirius'. Very interesting."

"It's not interesting. It's the truth!" she said loudly, waking up the baby. She rushed over to a crying Grace and picked her up. "Shhh, everything's alright."

The professor's eyes twinkled as he watched Isabelle interact with the toddler. They were both very bright and promising children, and didn't deserve to have their lives ruined because of the events of one night. But, he thought sadly, life is not always fair.

"If you're sure of what you're saying, I'll go speak to John Thompson and try to arrange a trial," Dumbledore said carefully.

"A trial? You can't mean that Mr. Crouch is sending Sirius to Azkaban without a trial! That's illegal."

"I wish it were," he shook his head sadly. "I can't make you any promises Isabelle, other than I'll make sure you, Grace and Harry are well taken care of no matter what happens."

"Thank you for that kindness, Professor Dumbledore," she said politely, but sincerely.

He nodded, and left the room quietly. Isabelle fed and dressed the baby, mentally and emotionally unable to process what she had just heard. She couldn't scream, get angry, or even cry – she felt completely numb.

-----

Severus nervously paced up and down Professor Dumbledore's office. A tight knot formed in his stomach as he waited for his former headmaster to return from the Ministry of Magic headquarters. Instinctively, he knew that his future depended on this meeting. He tried to sit down more than once, but had too much nervous energy to stay still. When the older wizard appeared in the fireplace and walked into the room, he was actually relieved. No matter what happened to him, at least the waiting was over. 

"Good evening, Severus," he said pleasantly, offering him a chair beside the fire.

"Good evening, Professor," he managed to choke out in reply.

Instead of sitting behind his desk, as was his custom, Professor Dumbledore pulled up a chair to the fire and sat across from the young man. He studied his former student carefully. Although he had heard all of the rumors and whisperings that Severus Snape was among Lord Voldemort's followers, he didn't actually believe them until the young wizard showed up in his office with the girls.

"How was your meeting with the Minister of Magic?" Severus asked, trying to make conversation.

"Unproductive." He shook his head sadly. "John Thompson is absolutely convinced that Sirius Black is Lord Voldemort's second-in-command. He's so embarrassed that he supposedly let such a high-ranking Death Eater run the Intelligence Division of the Ministry, that he's not even entertaining the notion of a trial."

"I see."

"Severus, was Sirius Black a Death Eater?"

He couldn't lie. "Not that I knew of. Honestly, he had no reason to turn to Voldemort, unless it was jealousy of James. Maybe he wanted to get back at him because his life fell apart at the seams while James became even more successful and happy."

"May I ask a personal question?" Professor Dumbledore asked.

"Sure," he answered, swallowing nervously.

"Why did you turn to Lord Voldemort, Severus?" The older wizard actually looked hurt that one of his former students would turn to evil.

"My wife." He took a deep breath. "She contracted a rare heart disease that required a great deal of medical attention. Her family and I have never gotten along, so I didn't feel comfortable asking them for money to pay her medical bills. Voldemort needed a potions master, and I needed money. Simple as that. I never really agreed with his political philosophies, but once you're a Death Eater, pretty much the only way out is death. Also, he protected me from my in-laws and their never-ending quest to send me to Azkaban."

"I didn't know that you're married," Professor Dumbledore said, quite surprised.

"I'm not." His face fell. "The Ministry found out that she married a Death Eater. So, if she stayed with me, she would've been sent to Azkaban as a political prisoner. I didn't want her to suffer, so I divorced her. The whole situation went away quietly, and she remarried a few years later."

"To Sirius Black," he finished with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. Severus nodded.

"He and James both blame me for Regina's death. But, I swear that I never would have done anything to hurt her."

"Or her daughter, the poor child. Her mother's dead, and her father's suddenly the most notorious criminal in recent history. Not to mention Isabelle, who's lost everyone she cares about. Honestly, I'm not entirely sure what to do with them."

"Well, it's not fair for the baby to live with the stigma of Black being in prison," Severus said compassionately in spite of his hatred for Sirius. "Or, the Evans girl, for that matter. They'll be social outcasts."

Professor Dumbledore nodded. "I agree. Harry will be able to live a fairly normal life, as opposed to the girls. So, I am going to send him to his Aunt Petunia's house to live amongst Muggles until he's old enough to come to Hogwarts. Then, he'll be mature enough to understand what happened to his family."

"Muggles?" Severus wrinkled his nose. "But, they won't have a clue about—"

"Precisely. Which means that they'll treat him like a normal child, not the Boy Who Lived. That's a lot of emotional baggage for such a little boy. Hagrid's supposed to bring Harry to his aunt's house tonight, and there he will grow up."

"Are you sending the Evans girl there, too? To go to Muggle school?" The professor smiled internally. Throughout this conversation, he'd been testing the young wizard to see where his loyalties truly lay. And, he discovered to his surprise that they were to a woman who died years ago, but whose legacy still remained in his heart.

Perhaps those loyalties could be bent to include someone else, he mused, deciding to propose a mutually beneficial deal with Severus.

The Death Eater would have everything to gain by accepting his offer – an acceptable way to leave Lord Voldemort's service, employment, and most of all, a family. Yes, he thought, this arrangement could work nicely.

"I could," Professor Dumbledore said noncommittally. "But, I understand that Isabelle and her sister Petunia have never gotten along, which is how she came to live with Lily in the first place. And, it's unfair to ask Isabelle to turn her back on her own culture and return to the Muggle world after living as a witch for so long."

"So, are you going to have her come back to school here, then? Under some sort of alias?"

"If I did that, she would still have to live with the knowledge that everyone blames her own guardian for her sister's death. I don't think that's a healthy environment for her."

"Probably not," Severus agreed.

Professor Dumbledore changed the subject slightly. "It'll be difficult for you as well, won't it? Most employers aren't willing to give the benefit of the doubt to former Death Eaters, even thought Lord Voldemort is thought to be dead."

"Yeah, that's true," he said quietly, looking out of the window.

"_Most_," the older wizard repeated. "I believe everyone makes mistakes, and deserves a second chance. If you could somehow prove your trustworthiness, I'm sure I could find you suitable employment somewhere."

Severus' face whipped around with eyes full of hope. "Oh, I'm trustworthy, I swear. I'll do anything to prove it to you."

"Anything?" His face broke into a grin. "In that case, I have a little proposal for you. If you take Isabelle to America, and personally ensure that she becomes a fully qualified witch, I'll find you a job."

"Me? Raise a teenage girl?" All the color drained from his face.

"I didn't say it would be easy. And Isabelle is a little, oh, how shall I say this, high-spirited. She's a handful and a half. But, you've lived in American culture and can help her acclimate to new surroundings. She needs adult guidance. So, is this arrangement agreeable to you?"

Severus stared into the fireplace, thinking. He had zero experience with children, especially teenage girls. The concept of parenting was completely foreign to him. However, he needed a job, and without Professor Dumbledore's help, he didn't stand a chance of finding one.

And, he knew this young girl was the reason that Black didn't move to New York all of those years ago. Part of him despised Sirius for always choosing Isabelle above Regina when push came to shove. She deserved better than to play second best to a child. What better way to get revenge on Sirius than to take away what he loved most – the children?

"Yes, I'll do it," he said resolutely. "What's to become of the baby?"

"Like Harry, I plan to put her in a Muggle foster home. But, I think that if her identity remains hidden, she will be able to come to Hogwarts and live a fairly normal life."

"How do you plan to do that? She's the most photographed baby in the world."

"With a Fidelius Charm to protect both girls' true identities from the world. It's better for them if we let the rumors that Isabelle Evans and Grace Black died last night continue. That way, they can begin new lives with a clean slate."

Severus nodded. "Who do you plan to choose as a Secret-Keeper?"

"You."

"Oh."

"Yes, I believe that we should perform the spell now. That way, the children can take supervised walks around the castle. I'm sure they have cabin fever by now. Also, I need to explain everything to Isabelle, and the sooner, the better."

Professor Dumbledore smiled internally as he quickly performed the Fidelius Charm. Deep in his heart, he knew that Severus and Isabelle would get along just fine.

-----

Hidden by the Invisibility Cloak, Isabelle quietly plodded along the familiar road towards Number Four, Privet Drive. Thankfully, Professor Dumbledore left her to her thoughts, and let her follow him silently. He concentrated instead on putting up anti-Muggle detection security measures, in case Hagrid decided to bring Harry to Privet Drive in an unusual, magical way. And knowing Hagrid, he wouldn't consider the impact of his actions on the Muggle population, so the more secure the environment, the better. 

Isabelle blinked back tears. Just a short hour ago, she said her goodbyes to Gracie, which nearly tore her heart to shreds. The little girl was smart as a whip, and it didn't take long for her to figure out what was going on. Isabelle wanted to rip her out of Severus' arms and run away with her. Although she knew that Professor Dumbledore would make sure that she was provided for, she wished that she could raise the little girl herself. But, everyone agreed that Isabelle needed to make a clean break, a chance to have a 'normal' youth.

Whatever that is, she thought glumly. What about my life has ever been 'normal'?

She demanded to be able to say goodbye to Harry, and she planned to spend the night looking after him until Petunia woke up and discovered him. What if he woke up and was scared, or lonely?

Isabelle adored her nephew, and couldn't bear for him to endure the same neglect that she suffered at the hands of Petunia. But, Professor Dumbledore promised that Harry would have somewhere decent to sleep, food and clothing. Most importantly, Harry would be taught to speak _English_, and would go to school. No running around half-wild, confused and people-shy; he deserved much better than that.

She tuned out Professor Dumbledore's conversation with Professor McGonagall as they waited for Hagrid to arrive. The last thing she wanted to hear was a reminder that her family was dead, something she still hadn't processed yet. In fact, Dumbledore worried about the fact that she still hadn't reacted at all. Eventually, she would crack, and he feared that she would have a complete breakdown.

Which is why he allowed her to accompany him to the Dursley's house. Perhaps seeing Harry one last time would bring some finality and closure to the situation. Or, at least make it real to her.

Suddenly, Hagrid appeared in the night sky, riding Sirius' motorcycle. At least, Isabelle thought that it was Sirius'; she didn't know anyone else who charmed a motorcycle to fly. She allowed herself a small grin, remembering all the fights he used to have with Regina over it.

They became legendary, and Isabelle rather looked forward to them. For once, Sirius defied the great and powerful Regina, and it was a great show. He would huff and puff about how the bike is perfectly safe, and she would scream about how he was going to make a widow out of her. Eventually, one of them would storm off somewhere and brood. It was almost a ritual of sorts.

Personally, Isabelle didn't see what the big deal about the motorcycle was. So what if he was reckless, impulsive and generally unpredictable? To her thinking, that could get him killed just as easily on the ground as in the air. Or get him sent to Azkaban, she thought with a shudder. She quickly pushed thoughts of Sirius in prison out of her mind, and focused on Harry.

She impatiently waited for Hagrid to say his goodbyes to the little boy. Considering that he would see him again at Hogwarts, she didn't know why he was so torn up about it. _He_ wasn't saying goodbye to her beloved sister's baby forever. Finally, the giant climbed back onto the motorcycle, and rode off into the night, presumably to take the bike back to Sirius.

Professor Dumbledore didn't quite have the heart to tell him that Sirius was in prison, and probably would be for the remainder of his life. Hagrid was emotional enough; that knowledge would likely send him into a frenzy. Better for him to find out in a non-Muggle environment, he decided.

Isabelle tapped her foot as Professor McGonagall left to attend the parties. She regretted that she couldn't say goodbye to her and the girls. Over the past few years, she had grown incredibly fond of the McGonagall family, and would miss them terribly.

She watched Dumbledore walk up the stairs of the Dursleys' house, and place him gently on the porch. He turned, and she lowered the hood of the Invisibility Cloak. Isabelle rushed up the stairs, kneeling beside a peacefully sleeping Harry.

"I want to stay with him tonight," she said, without looking up. "I'll sneak back to Hogwarts in the morning. You have my word."

The old wizard smiled, knowing that she would keep her promise. Besides, it was a good idea for Harry to have company throughout the night. So, he simply nodded, and headed back to the castle.

Isabelle watched his retreating form briefly, and then turned her attention to Harry. She smoothed his hair with her hand, fighting the urge to giggle when his hair flattened for a second, only to stick back up again. The lightning-bolt shaped scar fascinated her, primarily because she wondered why the Killing Curse didn't work.

Unlike the rest of the wizarding population, she refused to believe that something purely miraculous kept Harry alive. Thanks to the Fidelius Charm, she could freely move about the castle all day, and what she heard amazed her. The students spoke of Harry as if he was some messianic figure, born to deliver them from Voldemort's terror.

Not only was that sacrilege to Isabelle's Catholic values, it just didn't make logical sense. So, she racked her brain, trying to figure out what _really_ happened while she watched Harry sleep. Around three o'clock in the morning, the answer hit her. In Lily's last letter, one of the charms was the Declino Charm – the Deflecting Charm.

She must've deflected the Killing Curse back onto Voldemort, Isabelle thought. But, perhaps it hit Lily as well, killing her and Voldemort both. The more she pondered the idea, the more convinced she became that that was what happened. But, why would Voldemort want to kill Harry first?

Before she could think about that question, Harry stirred restlessly. To keep him from crying, Isabelle began softly singing an Irish lullaby she learned from her nanny.

_Over in Killarney   
Many years ago,   
Me Mither sang a song to me   
In tones so sweet and low.   
Just a simple little ditty,   
In her good ould Irish way,   
And l'd give the world if she could sing   
That song to me this day. _

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,   
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry!   
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,   
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby. _

Harry yawned and smiled in his sleep upon hearing Isabelle's familiar voice. Encouraged, she finished the lullaby and continued singing to the toddler. The first rays of sun peeked over the horizon, reminding her that very soon, he would be taken away from her, presumably forever. Deeply distressed and saddened, she chose a song to match her mood.

_Oh Harry boy,_ she changed the words to the familiar tune,   
_the pipes, the pipes are calling  
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side  
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying  
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.  
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow  
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow  
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow  
Oh Harry boy, oh Harry boy, I love you so. _

_And if you come, when all the flowers are dying  
And I am dead, as dead I well may be  
You'll come and find the place where I am lying  
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me. _

The front door suddenly swung open. Petunia stared at the baby for a minute in shock, the milk bottles limply dangling from her hand. Dazed, she removed the letter from Harry's fist and skimmed it briefly. She dropped the note and screeched loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear. Isabelle's ears rang from the noise.

"Petunia, what on earth is going on?" came Vernon's voice from the living room.

"I-it's my sis-sister's b-baby," she stuttered, causing her husband to rush to the front door. His beefy face turned beet red at the mere sight of the little boy, and he roughly grabbed the letter off the porch.

"Well, seems we have no choice but to take in the brat," he said angrily.

"Hopefully he isn't one of _her kind_." Petunia whispered the last two words.

"Why wouldn't he be?" Vernon spat. "Look at who his parents are. Hmm, it looks like both of your sisters died in the attack."

"Good riddance, if you ask me."

Tears stung Isabelle's eyes. She knew there was no love lost between she and Petunia, but to actually hear her say that she was glad that she and Lily died broke her heart. Much as she despised her oldest sister, she would never delight in her death.

It took all of her self-control not to take Harry and run. How could they _not_ want him? He was such a sweetheart. She winced watching Petunia pick up his carrier and take him inside as if he was an alien life being. The door slammed, and just like that, Harry was gone. Shattered, Isabelle turned to go back to Hogwarts to begin her new life, finishing the song as she went.

_And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me   
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be  
If you'll not fail to tell me that you love me  
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.  
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me. _

I _will_ come back for you Harry, she vowed, giving Privet Drive one last glance before jumping on the Knight Bus to Hogsmeade.

-----

Severus shifted the baby in his arms, and knocked on the door of a rather large, well kept home in a nice, quiet neighborhood. A young woman, perhaps a couple of years older than him, opened the door and invited him in. Her eyes lit up when she saw the little girl, who simply stared at the woman in response. 

"Good evening," he echoed her greeting, looking around the home.

It appeared to be beautifully furnished and clean. Much as he hated Sirius, he didn't want Regina's daughter to be neglected or abused in any way. He owed that much to her. When he carried little Grace into the living room, a nervous-looking man stood up to shake his hand. Severus put the baby down to let her explore her new home, and accepted a cup of tea from the woman, a Mrs. Granger, if he remembered correctly.

"Thank you for seeing us on such short notice," Severus said, taking a sip from the cup.

"No, thank you," Mrs. Granger said gratefully. "We've been trying to have a child for years, and recently found out that we can't have children at all. And our first few attempts at adoption failed miserably, and – please forgive me. I'm babbling."

He waved his hand dismissively. "It's quite alright. Just so that you understand, this isn't an outright adoption, more like a permanent foster placement. My—er—agency wants to reserve the right to remove the child from your home in the event that this is no longer a suitable environment for her."

"We understand, sir. We're just happy to have her," Mr. Granger replied.

"Could you tell us a little bit about her and her family?" his wife asked. Severus nodded, and thought for a minute.

"Her medical information is in this paperwork," he held up a folder, "but I'm guessing that's not exactly what you wanted to know. Her mother was an artist, and an extremely good one at that."

He paused, trying to think of something decent to say about Sirius, but was drawing a complete blank. "Her father was a civil servant. He worked for the government."

There, he thought, immensely proud of himself for managing not to insult Sirius.

"Are her parents alive or dead?" Mrs. Granger inquired quietly.

"I'd rather not say," he answered honestly. "But, neither of her parents are able to care for her any longer. Is there anything else that you'd like to know?"

"Yes. What does she go by?"

As Severus opened his mouth to answer her, he suddenly realized that he had his revenge on Sirius. Finally, he would know what it felt like to lose everything that he loved. And now, he had the opportunity to twist the knife. He smiled internally.

"Hermione. She goes by her first name," he lied, fully knowing how much Sirius hates that name.

"How unusual," Mrs. Granger mused, playing with the baby.

"It's from the Shakespeare play _The Winter's Tale_. Her mother loved Shakespeare. The name means good luck," Severus explained.

"You knew her mother then?" she asked.

"Yes, I knew both of her parents. And, I'm sure that they would be pleased that she's been placed in a good home," he said, standing up to leave.

The couple smiled, thrilled to pieces with the toddler, who was being surprisingly quiet. Usually she was a chatterbox, but she hadn't really said much since she left Isabelle earlier that evening. He said goodbye to the Grangers, walking out into the cool night air.

As the door shut behind him, he smiled ironically. He truly enjoyed being the person who severed Sirius' parental ties to his daughter. For all intents and purposes, Grace Black really was dead, transformed into a little girl named Hermione Granger.


	2. Chapter 2: A Fresh Start

**Author's Note:** This is probably one of my favorite chapters that I've ever written. Ugh, killing Lily & James was so horrible, but their funeral? & I do love the whole ball scene. The "kissing your mother" line is a shameless ripoff from "The Nanny".

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**Chapter 2**

Isabelle smoothed her best black dress robes with her hands, critically examining herself in the mirror. Severus would be by her temporary quarters any minute to take her to Lily and James' funeral. Then, they would travel by the Floo system to London Heathrow Airport, where she would board her very first airplane.

Although she wanted to go to New York City, Severus flatly refused. Instead, he chose to move them to Williamsburg, Virginia, the nerve center of the American wizarding world. As the first permanent British settlement, the Jamestown/Williamsburg area quickly became the hub for wizarding activities. Especially since New England, Massachusetts particularly, was quite hostile towards magic and tended to execute suspected witches and wizards.

Her hands shook as she carefully pinned up her hair, causing the necklace that Sirius gave her for her sixteenth birthday to shine in the light. More than anything, she valued that gift and never planned to part with it. A lump caught in her throat as she thought of what he must be going through. Oh, how she wished that she could go to Azkaban to see him, to somehow let him know that she and Gracie were all right.

But, no, I'm going on an all-expenses paid trip to a completely foreign environment, she thought sarcastically. My new home, the middle of nowhere, Virginia. Woo-hoo.

She heard a knock, so she swung the door open with a flick of her wand. Severus stood in the doorway, observing the girl now completely in his care. He felt completely over his head, knowing nothing about raising teenage girls.

"Ready?" he asked. She gave herself a last look in the mirror, and nodded.

"Yes. Here's my bag, if you want to shrink it for travel." She passed him her knapsack, which he reduced to an inch-square cube, which he tucked into his robes.

On their way through the maze of hallways, they ran into Professor Dumbledore, who was also on his way to the funeral. Isabelle nervously gave him a sidelong glance.

"Professor?" she said quietly, removing a parcel from her robes. "Could you possibly do me a favor?"

"Sure," he answered curiously.

"This is James' Invisibility Cloak, and I'd like for Harry to have it. Can you keep it for him until he comes to Hogwarts?"

"Of course." Professor Dumbledore took the package, and gave her a reassuring look. She still wasn't showing any emotional reaction at all.

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot," Isabelle exclaimed, pulling a small key ring from her pocket. "This is the key to my vault at Gringotts' main bank. Since I'm legally dead, I can't access any of the funds. Harry's my legal heir, anyway. It's not as if Petunia's going to give him spending money when he comes to Hogwarts, so I want him to enjoy himself."

"Why do you have a vault at the main bank?" Severus asked skeptically.

"It's a long story. But, I earned all the money myself, I swear," she insisted.

"I believe you," Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "How much spending money are you giving your young nephew?"

"A quarter of a million Galleons," Isabelle said proudly. Both men did a double take, but recovered quickly. And neither man really wanted to know how she came across that much money.

Isabelle walked silently in between the two men as they left the castle grounds and walked towards the cemetery. She gasped – it was a mob scene. People jammed the tiny streets, all there to pay their last respects to the Potters. The crowd parted for Professor Dumbledore to pass through, with Isabelle and Severus quickly following in tow. They slipped into the cemetery, completely unnoticed, and made their way to the Potter family plot.

The sight of the two dark teak caskets made her knees buckle, and she wobbled slightly. The coffin on the left had a funeral pall of calla lilies; Isabelle knew immediately that that was her sister's. Besides, she noted with a small smile, the broomstick and other Quiddich regalia on the other coffin wasn't really Lily's style.

She put up the hood on her cloak to ward off the early November chill as the funeral service began. Numbly, she listened to the familiar words of the official. Professor Dumbledore put a supporting hand on her shoulder as the funeral ended and the crowd began to file by.

Family friends, Ministry officials and her classmates from Hogwarts walked right past her, without recognizing her in the slightest. She steeled herself mentally for seeing the coffins and listening to the service, but nothing prepared her for the effects of the Fidelius Charm. When Bill passed by without giving her a second glance, she bit her lip to keep from bursting into tears right then and there.

After an hour, cemetery officials began shepherding the mourners back into Hogsmeade. All of the restaurants in town had set up tables outside their shops, laden with free food and drinks for the crowd. The deaths of the Potters and the subsequent fall of Lord Voldemort deeply touched the wizarding community, and they spared no effort to honor the family that sacrificed so much in the fight for peace and safety.

Professor Dumbledore wished the young pair much success in America, and left to join the mourners, leaving only Isabelle and Severus at the plot. She was quite thankful that the Professor arranged for her to say her final goodbyes in private. Hesitantly, she approached the caskets, running her hand over the smooth, shiny finish.

Suddenly, it occurred to Isabelle that these weren't empty boxes. Her _sister's_ lifeless body was inside that coffin. In a few minutes, she, James and their unborn baby would be lowered into the ground forever. A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air as she collapsed to the ground, finally snapping. She pounded the ground hysterically while Severus looked on in horror, not knowing what to do.

"No!" she shrieked desperately. "Not Lily, too! Please God, let this be a nightmare! I want my sister back – she can't be dead."

Isabelle pinched herself repeatedly, as if to jog herself out of a bad dream. "This can't be real. Things weren't supposed to be this way. I _need_ you, Lily. How can I live without you? I've learned everything that I know about being a good person from you."

"You were supposed to help me plan my wedding," she sobbed. "James was supposed to hate my future husband with a passion, and you were going to make him see reason. And Sirius promised to walk me down the aisle. I've lost all of you!"

"What about when I have children? I'm going to need your encouragement that morning sickness ends and babies are worth labor. And, you were supposed to hold my hand through it all, and give me loads of your wonderful advice. Whom can I turn to now?"

"I've lost everyone I love, one by one! How can I live without all of you? I have no one. _No one_ cares about me now. Petunia was glad that I died – can you believe that? Harry's gone forever, and so is Gracie. Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this?"

Something about Isabelle's heartfelt words touched Severus. She was right; she didn't do anything to deserve what happened to her. All she did was love her family, and now she had to walk away from everyone and everything that she had ever cared about.

Surprisingly, he discovered that he actually felt sorry for the girl. Nearly bordering on caring about her. As gently as he could, he helped her to her feet and led her out of the cemetery. They had a flight to America to catch, and Severus hoped that time would heal both of their wounds.

-----

Isabelle shifted sullenly in an uncomfortable chair, watching the hordes of people milling around the airplane terminal. Normally, she enjoyed people watching. She loved studying people's facial expressions and interactions with each other. However, today she really just wanted to be alone with her thoughts. 

A single tear escaped from the corner of her eye, which she hurriedly brushed away. She tried to reconcile herself to this new life in America, but the fear of the unknown overwhelmed her. What was America like? Would she like living there? Most of all, how was she supposed to live with a virtual stranger for the next couple of _years_?

The last question nagged her as she watched the planes take off and land. Suddenly, she burst out laughing. What was she so worried about? If this Severus person could put up with Regina, then he obviously possessed a great deal of patience, for starters.

"What's so funny?" Severus asked, wondering if she had truly gone insane with grief.

"Nothing," she snorted.

Isabelle tried to picture this no-nonsense looking man with the Ice Queen. The mental image just wasn't coming to her. She badly wanted to ask him what he saw in Regina, but she held her tongue. Her survival depended on her ability to get along with this man, and she didn't want to get off on the wrong foot.

"Ok," he said slowly, giving her a funny look.

The look on his face made Isabelle shake from head to toe with laughter. If he thought _she_ was off her rocker, then why on earth did he elope with Regina Potter? Who, quite possibly, could've been the nuttiest woman on planet earth.

Well, he did divorce her, Isabelle reminded herself. Thanks a lot. She was all wrong for Sirius – why didn't anyone else but James see it? Although Gracie is just a doll; I couldn't imagine not having her.

Her heart caught in her throat at the mere thought of Sirius. Still unable to deal with the idea of him in Azkaban prison for the rest of his life, she simply refused to let her mind dwell on it. Maybe once she got settled into her new surroundings, she would be able to face what happened. But until then, she needed to focus on keeping her wits about her and be prepared for whatever the future held.

-----

Sirius briefly lifted his head from his hands to look around the interrogation room. During his tenure at the Ministry, he always wondered how the suspects felt during questioning. Now, he knew. He hated being treated like a common criminal – he didn't do anything wrong! Why couldn't anyone see that he was being framed? 

Not that it really matters, he thought hollowly. What do I have to live for? Everyone and everything I've ever cared about is gone, except for Harry. And, as if he'd ever trust me enough to ever let me within a hundred meters of him.

The door opened wide and swung shut. Sirius didn't bother to look up; it was probably one of the hundreds of inept Ministry officials that had interrogated him over the past week. Today promised to be another day of relentless probing into crimes he didn't commit.

"Sirius?" a gentle older female voice asked. His head shot up.

"Abuela?" he said, surprised. She was the last person he expected to visit him.

"How are you, my grandson?" she asked in Spanish, so that the guards couldn't understand their conversation.

"I didn't do it."

"I know that. Now, answer my question please."

He blinked back tears. "Alive, which is more than I can say for--"

"Do not blame yourself for what happened. Voldemort used you, just like everyone else."

"Then why can't the Ministry see that?" he asked angrily. Abuela refused to meet his gaze.

"There are people who believe you had personal reasons to follow the Dark Lord."

"Why? Because my wife died? That's ridiculous." Sirius crossed his arms and sat back in the chair.

"Ah, you are not thinking. Your wife, God rest her soul, is part of it. But, most of the whispering is about your relationship with your father. Or rather, the lack thereof."

"Which is _his_ doing! I spent my entire life trying to get his attention, trying to make him proud," Sirius protested.

"Exactly. And the--" Abuela let out a string of curses that made her grandson proud, "excuse of a father has the gall to say that you joined forces with Lord Voldemort to get back at him."

Suddenly, he felt very stupid. "Pettigrew thought of everything, didn't he? Everyone knows that my father and Tom Riddle were enemies at Hogwarts. In fact, Riddle beat out Father for Head Boy by only two marks, or something like that. That divided Slytherin house into two factions, if I remember the story correctly. I'll never forget how disappointed he was when I was sorted into Gryffindor, not Slytherin."

The older woman smiled at the memory. "You have too much of your mother in you."

"Yeah, well, that's why he can't stand the sight of me, right? How could he think that I hate him enough to turn against the only family I've ever known – the Potters? That's so typically him. Everything's about him," Sirius seethed.

"You don't hear an argument from me," Abuela agreed, taking a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ out of her large handbag. "I almost left this at home. But, you're going to hear about this sooner or later, so I figured that you should find out from someone who loves you."

"What now?" he asked tensely. He flipped open the paper and flinched at the headline: _Financier Denounces Son's Involvement in Halloween Killing Spree; Mourns Lost Granddaughter._

"Oh, come on. Look at this – he's giving quotes to the Prophet like he actually knew or cared about Grace. What!? He actually testified before the Ministry against me? This is unbelievable." Sirius buried his head in his arms. How could this be happening?

-----

Across the Atlantic Ocean, an incredibly nervous Isabelle stepped onto the grounds of Spotswood Academy, clutching her schedule like a lifeline. Like most of the buildings in Williamsburg, it was built in the colonial style. The breathtaking grounds with their perfectly groomed hedges and large, beautiful trees intimidated her. 

She took a deep breath and walked up the marble staircase, smoothing out her new school uniform with her free hand as she went. A loud bell sounded, echoing through the crowded hallways, making Isabelle jump several feet in the air.

"Excuse me?" she asked a young, freckle faced man politely. "Can you tell me where Room 116 is?"

He pointed her in the right direction, and she hurried to homeroom, whatever that was. As she took in her new surroundings, she thought about the events of the past few days.

After landing at Dulles Airport in Washington, D.C., she and Severus met with an old associate of his, Robert McNamara. With new identities in hand, they purchased a car and drove to Williamsburg, Virginia. They settled in a small, but comfortable apartment, and registered Isabelle in classes at the prestigious Spotswood Academy.

Sighing, she pushed open the door of Room 116. A cacophony of noise assaulted her ears; at least twenty-five loud girls were talking at the top of their lungs. She walked up the oblivious teacher.

"Excuse me, is this eleventh-grade girls' homeroom?" Isabelle asked hopefully.

"Yup," the teacher answered without looking from her paper. "Just find an empty chair."

"Thank you," she said, but the teacher wasn't listening.

Isabelle quietly slid into a chair in the far corner of the classroom, and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. The first day in a new school was never any fun, especially under circu.mstances like this.

So, she grabbed a magazine out of her bookbag, and buried herself in it, hoping that no one would bother with her. She didn't have to worry, because as soon as Isabelle began to read an article on the three things that always makes a relationship last, the entire room went silent. Curious, she looked up.

A tall brunette paused in the doorway for dramatic effect before entering the room. Everyone gaped as she took her seat in the exact middle of the classroom. Astonishingly beautiful, the girl flipped her hair behind her shoulders before saying a word.

"Hey, Nikki," one of the girls shouted from across the room. "How was Scotland?"

"Cold. It's good to be home," the brunette called back in a nearly undecipherable Southern drawl, at least to Isabelle anyway.

"Must be nice to have a father who's the head of the OMA so that you can go on vacation any time you please," a pimple-faced blonde said snidely.

OMA? Isabelle puzzled. Oh, yes – the Office of Magical Affairs, the American version of the Ministry of Magic.

"Whatever, Lucy. This was no vacation. I was stuck doing the diplomat's daughter thing almost the entire time. I barely even spent any time in London." Nikki rolled her eyes.

"So, what was the Potters' funeral like? We want the details," Lucy pressed.

Isabelle felt like every square inch of air had been sucked out of her lungs. Not only was her sister dead, she had to listen to someone else giving her version of events? She slouched in her seat, praying that she would remain invisible.

Full of her own importance, Nikki sat on top of her desk so everyone could see and hear her, like she was a queen holding court. "First of all, the funeral was boring as hell. And, tacky too. You'll never believe this – whoever decided the funeral palls put Quiddich stuff on James Potter's casket. Ok, so he won the World Cup for England like eight years ago or something. Big stinking deal. You would've thought they'd have more class than that."

"Why didn't Phillip go with you? I saw him around town all week," another girl asked cattily.

"Because," she huffed, "he refused to go to the funerals because of the Evans girl. Something about me not having respect for the dead and he didn't want to put up with my fake sympathy. Can you believe that? I am sympathetic that all of them died – I'd just rather go shopping than suffer through a funeral of people I barely know. Is that such a crime?"

"Of course not," the girl answered sympathetically. "So, did your man cheat on you with the Evans girl?"

"Don't even get me started on that little tramp," Nikki seethed.

Isabelle sat up, surprised. Who is this girl, and why does she hate me? she wondered. And, she really needs to shut up about my sister's funeral before I knock her teeth out.

"Why? What happened?" Lucy asked innocently.

"Well, remember when the Ministry of Magic in London invited my family to the annual Christmas Ball last year?" Everyone nodded jealously. "It has to do with that."

"Um, details?" a girl named Becky asked. At least, that's the name scrawled on the back of her notebook.

"It's the social event of the season, and is incredibly exclusive. Only the inner circle of the Ministry is invited to go. So, my parents, Phillip and I were at the ball mingling, when the entire room shuts up because the Potters and Blacks have arrived and are getting ready to make their entrance," Nikki continued.

"Their entrance?" Lucy squealed.

"Yes, like they're royalty or something. The way the room's set up, you enter by walking down a massive red-carpeted staircase. So, James Potter, his mudblood wife and son come in the room and everyone's cheering and clapping. Y'all won't believe what happened next."

She paused for dramatic effect. "Sirius Black walks into the ballroom escorting the Evans girl, like she was his social equal!"

"No way," a girl breathed.

"I couldn't believe it either. The girl walks down the staircase like she's the Queen of England or something, with one arm in Sirius Black's, and the other holding his daughter Grace. That mudblood obviously doesn't know her station."

Isabelle's jaw clenched. How _dare_ she talk about her family this way? Besides, she remembered things a little differently…

_"__What's wrong, Belle?" _

_"__Nothing." _

_"__It has to be something, or you wouldn't be dragging your feet like that. Especially since I know that you've been looking forward to spiking the punch with Bill and Charlie all week," he said with a teasing grin. _

_"__I wish Remus was here, that's all." She looked down at her robes again. _

_"__Why?" _

_"__So he could escort me into the room," Isabelle said quietly. "I love the ball; I just hate walking into the room with all of those eyes staring at me. Especially since I walk in last, like I'm the tag-along, an afterthought." _

_"__I never knew you felt that way." _

_"__It's no big deal." _

_"__It is a big deal, Isabelle. Look at me." He lifted her chin so that his concerned eyes looked into hers'. "You are not a tag-along, or an afterthought. You're a very important part of this family, not a second-class citizen." _

_Sirius passed her the baby and offered her his arm. "Well, ready to make our grand entrance?" _

_"__Yes, I am," she beamed, taking his arm and walking into the room. _

_As she walked down the stairs with Sirius and Gracie, she felt like for at least this one moment, her dreams had come true. She truly felt like a princess, and wished that the staircase would never end. Midway down, she caught Bill's eye, who let out a piercing wolf-whistle. She blushed slightly, but maintained her composure. This was by far the happiest moment of her life… _

"What does that have to do with your man?" Becky asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm getting to that," Nikki drawled. "Ok, so the ball begins and the Evans girl just flits around the room, laughing and talking to everyone like she's the belle of the ball, not the poor relation she really is. Or, maybe she was flirting with every man there because she needs to snag a rich man to keep her place in society."

Isabelle's jaw dropped. Flirting with every man there? she thought in amazement. Not hardly.

_"__There you are." _

_Isabelle looked up from where she was playing on the floor with little Gracie and Harry. There were several rooms off the main ballroom for the children to entertain themselves in, complete with a full staff to cater to their every need. _

_"__Where have you been, Superman?" she joked. _

_"__Looking for you." Bill gave her an evil grin. "Seems you're pretty popular these days though. Thought that I might have to take a number just to get a chance to say hello." _

_She threw a pillow at him. "You're full of it. I like to dance, that's all. And a lot of those poor boys can't tell their left foot from their right. So, those horrid snobby girls certainly won't dance with them." _

_"__True. Hey, did you bring the stuff?" he asked meaningfully. Isabelle rushed over to her cloak and pulled out an unopened bottle of Vipertooth Vodka. _

_"__Time to have a little fun," she laughed. "Maybe we can pour some into those snobs' drinks, so they'll loosen up a bit." _

_"__Good idea." He put down the toddler he was holding to examine the label. "Nice choice. This is some potent stuff, Dungeon Girl. I'm so proud. These kids, they grow up so fast." _

_She swatted at him as he pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. "Speaking of kids, check that out." _

_Isabelle pointed at the rug in front of the fireplace, where Bill's baby brother Ron managed to toddle over to Harry and Gracie. They were happily playing together, which Isabelle found incredibly odd because Gracie didn't like to share Harry with anyone. She crept closer, and to her amazement, the little girl was smiling and cooing at the redheaded baby, who smiled back. _

_"__Uh, Bill? I think my Gracie fancies your brother." _

_"__What can I say? Ron's got the Weasley charm. We're bloody irresistible." _

_She snorted. "Sure you are. Delusional, too. Ok, I think we can leave them for a minute or two to get this party started right, don't you think?" _

_"__Definitely." _

_Identical wicked grins spread over their faces as they snuck into the main ballroom and headed towards the punch bowl… _

"Meanwhile," Nikki interrupted Isabelle's memories, "I'm looking all over for my boyfriend, who's suddenly disappeared off the face of planet earth. Guess where I find him? Dancing with tha-that Evans tramp!"

"No way," Lucy breathed.

"Oh, yes. And they weren't just dancing. She was all over him. It was disgusting."

"I can't believe Phillip would do that to you!" another girl said comfortingly. "You must've been humiliated. He's lucky that you're still with him."

Phillip? That name sounded strangely familiar to Isabelle, but it took her a couple of minutes to place him.

_"__Come on, can't you ask your parents to let you go home with us?" she pleaded as Bill put on his cloak. _

_"__I don't think it'll work. The point is that Mum doesn't want us to be exposed to what happens when everyone's had a little too much to drink." _

_Isabelle straightened his cloak collar and frowned at him sadly. "Well, have a merry Christmas Superman, and I can't wait to see you on the train in a couple of weeks." _

_"__Have a merry Christmas yourself," he replied, hugging her awkwardly. _

_She sighed, and looked out into the main ballroom. Every year, the Weasleys left at exactly ten thirty, leaving Isabelle to entertain herself for hours before her family was ready to go home. Already a little bored, she flopped into a chair in the corner, accidentally sitting on someone. She jumped up, incredibly embarrassed. _

_"__Oh, I am so sorry!" she apologized. _

_"__Not a problem," came a deep voice. _

_The young man stood up, and stepped out of the shadows. Isabelle gasped unconsciously – he could perhaps be the best looking man that she'd ever seen. Other than Sirius, of course. His beautiful blue eyes twinkled mischievously as he extended his hand. _

_"__Forgive me for not properly introducing myself," he drawled charmingly. "I'm Phillip Spence, and you are?" _

_"__Evans. Isabelle Evans," she choked out, feeling incredibly stupid. _

_"__Nice to meet you Isabelle Evans." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. She nearly melted; this was like something out of Gone with the Wind. _

_"__You, too," she said in a daze. _

_The corners of his mouth turned upwards into a crooked, boyish grin as he ran a nervous hand through his short, curly blonde hair. Even in dress robes, she could make out his chiseled athletic build. _

_"__I haven't seen you around here before," Isabelle said conversationally. "Does someone in your family work for the Ministry?" _

_He laughed. "No, I'm here with my girlfriend Nicole Sullivan. Her father works for the OMA in America." _

_"__I see." _

_Girlfriend, she repeated to herself sadly. So much for that. Well, he looks lonely, and making a new friend is better than nothing. _

_"__I'm going to check on my nephew. Would you like to walk with me?" she asked. "Sure," he replied eagerly. _

_Anything was better than sitting alone in that chair, so he crossed the room and carefully sat down on the rug beside her. _

_"__This is my nephew Harry," she pointed. "And, this is Grace. So, where do you live in America?" _

_"__Williamsburg. I grew up there, and it's a pretty nice place to be. I'm in college right now on an athletic scholarship." He winced at the last part, knowing that made him sound poor. _

_"__Muggle college?" He nodded hesitatingly. "What sport do you play?" _

_"__Soccer. I guess y'all call it football," he joked. _

_"__Really? I watched a lot of football games over the summer when I was researching my Muggle Studies project. Fascinating sport. Except that I don't quite understand the offside rule. Could you explain it to me?" _

_Phillip's eyes widened. "Are you sure? I can kind of ramble once I get started." _

_"__Good! I want to learn all about the sport." She sat up eagerly. This would be great research for her project, not to mention getting to hear his incredibly sexy accent. _

_Isabelle got the attention of one of the many house elves bustling around the rooms, and had a tray of snacks and drinks brought to them. They sampled the tray while chatting about the finer points of soccer. Phillip was amazed; he'd never met a girl who actually liked to talk about sports before. _

_"__Excuse my nosiness, but didn't you say that you had a girlfriend?" she asked, shocked at her own forwardness. _

_"__In a manner of speaking," he replied honestly. "We're not serious, if that's what you're asking. I don't really have much time for a relationship between school and soccer." _

_"__So, what are you studying in college?" _

_He took a quick swallow of his drink. "I'm a double major in business and history. But, enough about me – I want to hear about you." _

_"__There's really not much to tell," Isabelle said shyly as her face turned pink. She nodded towards the ballroom, where Nikki was mingling with her mother, the picture of poise and elegance. "I'm not exactly in the same class as your girlfriend over there." _

_"__That's for sure." _

_Her face turned even redder at the admiring look in his eyes, and she looked down bashfully. "What I mean is, that I'm not, you know, well-traveled or sophisticated. I've never even been off the British Isles, not even to Paris." _

_"__Well, I've never been to Paris, either, so we're in the same boat here. In fact, this is my first trip across the pond," he drawled with a charming smile. "But, I really like what I see so far." _

_"__Oh, me too. That is – I mean, er, that I like what I've seen of America," she stuttered, drowning in his eyes. _

_Before Phillip could reply, a tall shadow fell over the rug. _

_"__Isabelle, what on earth are you doing?" James asked sharply, scooping up Harry. _

_"__Just talking. Why?" she inquired innocently. _

_"__Sod off, James," Lily interrupted quietly. "Let the girl have a little fun. Besides, she has to grow up sometime." _

_"__Oh, come on! He's a Yank – they're nothing but trouble," he said firmly. _

_"__Begging your pardon, sir, but I'm not a Yank. American, yes. Yankee, no," Phillip interjected, swallowing nervously as James' face flushed with anger. _

_"__Then, what are you?" the older wizard asked through clenched teeth. _

_"__A Southerner, and a Virginian. Big difference, sir." _

_Sirius watched the scene with amusement. He couldn't help admiring this young American man, but knew if he didn't do something, he would experience James' temper first-hand. James was incredibly overprotective when it came to Isabelle. Not that he wasn't of course, but he couldn't help having a little fun with his best mate. _

_"__I don't blame Isabelle a bit for keeping company with the Southerner, James," he said in a loud voice. "Especially since everyone knows that kissing an Englishman is like kissing your mother." _

_"__What did you say, you bloody Scottish Spaniard?" he exploded, starting a loud row. _

_"__Hey," Isabelle hissed quietly. "Follow me." _

_She slowly crept away from the rug with Phillip in tow. They inched along the side of the room until reaching the main dance floor, where they both sighed with relief. _

_"__Sorry about that," he apologized sheepishly. _

_"__About what? That was the most fun my family's been in ages," Isabelle laughed. _

_"__You never did answer my question," Phillip reminded her. _

_"__Oh." She bit her lip thoughtfully. "Well, everything that's important to me is in this room, actually. You're already met my family; they mean the world to me. When I'm not with them or at school, I'm dancing. That's about it." _

_"__You're a dancer?" _

_She nodded. "Ballet, mostly, but I do a little of everything. Whatever Madame Bordeaux's in the mood to teach." _

_"__In that case, may I have this dance?" _

_Isabelle practically swooned at his polite Southern drawl. He gently took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nikki shooting her daggers with her eyes. Isabelle felt that if the girl really cared, she wouldn't have abandoned the poor boy. _

_When the music started, she decided to teach the American priss a lesson. With a wicked grin, she stepped closer to Phillip until they were practically touching. To her surprise, he was a fantastic dancer. She had never had so much fun on a dance floor before, completely unaware that they were creating quite a display. _

_"__You're good at this," she exclaimed. _

_"__What, do you think that I get invited to these functions because of my Southern charm?" he winked. "Between us, Nikki has two left feet, so she needs me to make her look good. I wouldn't imagine that your boyfriend would be too happy if he was here right now, though." _

_"__Nah, we're kind of on a break. That's why I didn't bring him to the dance." _

_"__You mean that you're not dating that redhead that I saw you with earlier?" _

_"__Bill?" Isabelle's face pursed up. "No, he's like my brother. That would just be weird." _

_"__I see. Then, no one would be objecting if I did this." _

_He flashed her a wicked grin and slid his hand to the small of her back, making her head spin a little. Isabelle felt like nothing existed except for the two of them, and the music. For the first time, she didn't wish that she were dancing with Sirius, instead. In fact, she nearly forgot that he was there. _

"That's just tacky," Becky exclaimed, jarring Isabelle from her memories.

"Tell me about it," Nikki fumed. "And, you won't believe what that Evans tramp did next. Picture this: My parents are ready to leave, right? So, I go to the coatroom to fetch my cloak, because Phillip is nowhere to be around to get it for me. Guess what he was doing?"

"No," Lucy breathed.

"Oh, yes. Making out with that skinny blonde tart," she spat.

Isabelle gasped and turned bright red at the thought that anyone, let alone Nikki, saw that. Especially since it was such a sweet, private moment…

_"__Here, let me help you with that," Phillip said. He took Isabelle's cloak from her hands and helped her into it. _

_"__Thank you." _

_"__Your cloak matches your eyes," he noted. "You have beautiful eyes." _

_"__Thank you," she repeated, not knowing what else to say. _

_"__I had a really good time tonight. Is there any chance that maybe I could write to you?" he asked hopefully. She shook her head softly. _

_"__What would be the use? Your life is in America, and mine is here. And that will never change. My priorities, my future is here. Tonight has been wonderful; don't get me wrong. But, we'll probably never see each other again, and there's no use pretending otherwise," she said practically. _

_"__I know. You're completely right. So, since I'll never see you again, here's something to remember me by," he drawled. _

_Before Isabelle realized what was going on, he leaned down and kissed her slowly. She began to protest, but instead found her arms winding around his neck to keep him from pulling away…_


	3. Chapter 3: Road Trip

**Chapter 3**

The bell rang, and the girls stampeded to the door, hoping to socialize a bit before first period began. Isabelle slowly picked up her knapsack, and walked into the hallway. Luckily, she managed to make it to the girls' restroom before the tears that she'd been holding back for all of homeroom spilled over.

She locked herself into the far stall and slid to the ground, not budging until she heard the tardy bell for first period. Cautiously, she opened the stall door and peeked around the restroom to make sure she was alone. Grimacing at her image in the mirror, she splashed her face with cold water to make her eyes look not so puffy.

There's no way I can make it through the day in this mental state, she thought ruefully.

So, as she left the safety of the girls' restroom, she decided to brave Severus' ire and ask to be taken home. The office door creaked loudly, causing the secretary to look up as Isabelle nervously walked up to her desk.

"Um, hi. I'm a new student here. But I'm not feeling very well, so I'd like to go home, please," she said in a rush, holding her breath for the secretary's response. To her delight, the secretary simply started leafing through her Rolodex of student emergency contact names and addresses.

"What's your name?" she asked briskly.

"Tori Bievenour. Well, it's probably under Victoria Bievenour," Isabelle responded, thankful that she remembered her assumed name.

The secretary nodded, and wrote out a brief note. She attached it to the school correspondence owl, and Isabelle watched it fly out of the window and out of sight. A few minutes later, a very puzzled Severus rushed into the office. Without a word to Isabelle, he signed the early release form and walked her home.

"Is there anything you want to talk about?" he asked awkwardly, not knowing if this was the right thing to say.

"No," she fumed, storming down the hallway and into her room.

Severus winced as she slammed her door loudly, wondering if he should check in on her or just let her be. He stood in the hallway for a minute debating, but finally decided to leave her alone.

-----

Isabelle drummed her fingers on the desk as she leafed through her Astronomy textbook. The positions of the stars in Virginia were quite different from Scotland, and she wanted to familiarize herself with the changes before going to class. She took out a quill and highlighted various favorite constellations and stars for future reference when she went stargazing later. 

Astronomy was her first period class, but she hadn't made it past homeroom in the nearly two weeks that she'd been at Spotswood. Every day, Nikki said something that upset her to the point of hysterics, so she went home and cried her eyes out for hours before falling into a fitful sleep. It was her horrible routine, and she hated it.

She only saw one solution to the problem, and that was to let Nikki stop getting to her. Isabelle needed to learn how to shrug off her constant harping and criticism of both herself and her family. After all, no matter how popular you are, there's going to be someone who doesn't like you. At least, that's what Isabelle told herself as Nikki walked into the room, steeling herself for today's new round of insults.

Besides, Isabelle figured that Nikki couldn't possibly come up with anything more insulting that what she'd already said. So far, both she and Lily were worthless, money-grubbing mudbloods. James was a total sucker, and wasted his time working for the Ministry rather than being a businessman like his father. Sirius was a fool for marrying a known drug addict, and Regina completely disgraced the family. And Nikki actually delighted in the knowledge that the Ministry fired Remus even though there was no evidence tying him to the Halloween attacks.

"Hey, Nik," Lucy greeted her, offering her a licorice whip.

"Hey," she replied sullenly, slouching in her seat dramatically and angrily eating the licorice.

"What's with you?" Becky asked.

"I had a fight with Phillip. Actually, he broke up with me."

"What?" the girls in the room chorused in shock.

"Yeah. He was over my house for dinner, and Daddy started talking about the Potter murder case. And, how everything thinks that it's odd that no one ever found the bodies of Grace Black or the Evans tart. Well, I said that I think it's a little suspect that the Evans tramp was living with Sirius Black instead of her mudblood trash sister in the first place."

"So? Most people wonder about that," Lucy said dismissively.

"Exactly!" Nikki exclaimed. "And, what motive Black couldn't had to kill them in the first place. All I said is that he probably got the Evans tramp pregnant and killed her to hide the evidence."

Isabelle blinked. Did Nikki just say what she _thought_ she said? Before she could process that accusation, Nikki continued.

"Personally, I don't think it's all that farfetched. I talked to a couple of the Evans tart's classmates, and they said she was easy. So, why wouldn't she sleep with him?"

"You're just angry because your boyfriend cares more about a dead girl than you," Isabelle spat, breaking her silence. "Oh, excuse me. Ex-boyfriend."

"Who are you?" Nikki fumed, noticing the girl for the first time and sizing her up.

"Someone who's sick and tired of hearing you talk about things you know nothing about. Is your life so pathetic that you have nothing better to do than insult other people? It's classless and tacky. Maybe if you paid half the attention to Phillip that you spend being a nosy gossip, he wouldn't have dumped you." With that, Isabelle snatched up her knapsack and stormed into the hallway, head held high.

She walked into the office, gave the secretary her usual excuse, and waited on the outside steps for Severus to pick her up. When he Apperated a few minutes later, he wore his usual look of confusion and frustration.

Isabelle didn't really care what he thought; she just wanted to lock herself in the safety of her bedroom, where no one hurt her. Which is exactly what she did. Right before she fell asleep, she heard a light knock on the door.

"Come in," she called out, although she didn't really care what Severus wanted.

He had no clue how to approach her, to find out what was wrong with her. But, she reminded him an awful lot of Regina, especially when she was upset. So, Severus decided to draw on that limited experience now, and crossed his fingers that he could get through to her. Otherwise, it would be an extremely long two years.

"Isabelle, something's bothering you other than the obvious. I haven't known you very long, and even I can tell that." He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. "Look, I understand if you don't want to talk to me about it. But, you need to talk to someone. Maybe a therapist or something."

She rolled her eyes because he suddenly sounded exactly like Sirius. That was Sirius' line whenever she wouldn't talk about what was bothering her, and it worked every time. And, it worked for Severus, too, mostly because in that moment, Isabelle realized that he actually cared about her.

"It's this girl named Nikki Sullivan."

"What about her?" he asked hesitantly, surprised that she decided to confide in him.

"It's a long story, so maybe we should go to the living room. And, get some lunch, too. I'm starving." She smiled through her tears.

After settling on their makeshift couch with an enormous turkey and cheese sandwich, Isabelle began telling Severus everything. To her surprise, his face grew red with anger when he heard what Nikki had said. When she finished, he looked at his hands for a minute, and then up again.

"This girl really has it out for you, doesn't she?" he asked quietly. Isabelle nodded, biting her lip. "Well, I only see one solution for this."

"What's that?" she inquired in a barely audible voice.

"I think putting you in school right away was a mistake on my and Professor Dumbledore's part. And, hearing about your family in a bad light is making you unable to learn a thing. So, if you don't want to go back to Spotswood, you don't have to."

"Really? You really mean it?" She wanted to hug Severus, she was so happy.

"I really mean it. Besides, I haven't had a decent holiday since I started working for Voldie. Why don't we go somewhere for a while until things settle down?"

Isabelle's eyes lit up. "Oooh, where?"

"Anywhere you want." He genuinely meant it. This was the first sparkle of interest in anything that he'd seen in her. And although he didn't really want to raise her, he took his duties very seriously.

"Dallas. I want to go to Dallas, Texas," she said excitedly. "That's where my favorite television show is set."

"Dallas, Texas it is. We'll just break our lease, pack up our stuff, jump in the car, and buy a map on our way out of town. Sound good to you?"

"Sounds fabulous. But, what are you going to tell the school when you pull me out of classes?" Isabelle asked, worried.

"That you've just been diagnosed with a life-threatening disease, maybe a rare cancer or something, and you need to go somewhere for treatment. Where, I don't know, but I'll make something up on the spot. And, that'll explain why you needed to go home every day – you're too weak to sit in class for hours." He winked.

"You're an absolute genius. Thank you." She shocked him by jumping up and giving him a huge hug. He would never rise to the ranks of Sirius Black, but Severus Snape just became her new hero.

-----

Isabelle casually slung her bag over her shoulder and slammed the apartment door behind her while Severus turned in the keys at the office. True to his word, he immediately removed her from Spotswood Academy two days ago. 

They would've started their road trip yesterday, except that Isabelle talked Severus into trading in their Ford Thunderbird for a much sportier Chevrolet Corvette and they needed to stay in town to finish up the paperwork. She grinned at the sight of their new ride – it truly was a beautiful car.

And, as she reminded Severus on several occasions during the past twenty-four hours, she knew her cars. The gleaming, jet-black Corvette was Isabelle's ticket to freedom from Nikki and the rest of the wizarding world. She truly needed to put the past behind her and start a new life, and this road trip was the first step.

She popped open the trunk and tossed her bag inside as Severus emerged from the office with a surly look on his face. Without a word, he tossed Isabelle the car keys and stormed to the car's passenger side door. She shrugged and hopped in the driver's side.

His moods didn't bother her; after all, she was used to Sirius, who probably spent half of his life brooding. Not that she would ever tell Severus that he had _anything_ in common with Sirius, although they reminded her of each other a lot. She fought a small smile as she fired up the 'Vette and headed towards Interstate 64.

"What's so funny?" he grumped.

"You," she replied, fumbling for a favorite cassette tape and popping it into the car stereo.

"What's this?"

"Driving music," she explained as 'Back in Black' blared from the speakers. She thought it was quite appropriate, considering that they were in a black car. After a couple of minutes, Severus began drumming his fingers to the beat.

"This isn't half bad," he hollered over the music.

"Told you I have good taste," she fired back, punching the accelerator to get up to Interstate speed. She laughed as Severus clutched the dash, white-knuckled, as she shifted into fourth gear.

"Are you sure you know how to drive this thing?"

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Of course I do! You just have to trust me."

"This is going to be a long trip," he muttered underneath his breath.

-----

Severus slowly opened an eye and surveyed his surroundings, realizing that the car wasn't moving. And, Isabelle wasn't in the driver's side or in his immediate eyeshot. He sighed heavily and covered his face with the hood of his cloak, hoping that she wasn't far away. 

Although he thought Isabelle was absolutely nuts with her grueling driving pace, he wasn't in the mood for a prolonged stop. She was known to spend an unreal amount of time sightseeing in travel plazas and truck stops; they endlessly fascinated her. And, this morning was no exception. She bounded into the car with a large paper sack filled to the brim with leaflets and food.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully, peering inside the bag and pulling out a bottle.

"Morning," he grumbled, wishing that she hadn't wanted to drive through the night.

Even if they didn't reach Dallas by nightfall, he planned to put his foot down and demand to spend the night in a hotel. His back couldn't take another night in a cramped Corvette seat, and neither could his nerves.

"Breakfast?" she asked, dumping out the contents of the bag into her lap.

"Sure. What are today's _fascinating_ options?" he replied sarcastically, eyeing the snack cakes suspiciously.

She usually picked the oddest-looking Muggle food, and tried to talk Severus into trying it first, just to see the disdainful look on his face when he took a bite. Isabelle flashed him a winning smile, and held up two small cakes wrapped in cellophane.

"The guy at the counter said these were good," she said meekly, holding them out for inspection.

Severus rubbed his eyes, and scanned the labels. "So, my choices are a 'Moon Pie' and a 'Zinger'. Isabelle, I'm picking the food at the next stop, ok?"

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, popping off the top of a Yoo-Hoo and downing its contents before firing up the car.

"Where are we, anyway?" he asked, deciding to try the 'Zinger'. He unwrapped it, took a tentative bite, and was surprised that he actually liked the little chocolate cake. Relieved, he wolfed it down.

"Arkansas," Isabelle answered, pronouncing it "Our Kansas." "'Bout an hour outside Little Rock."

She leaned over and began fiddling with the radio. After a couple of minutes, she managed to get a station to come in clearly. Severus gave her a dirty look as she sang along with the music.

_And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson   
Jesus loves you more than you will know   
God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson   
Heaven holds a place for those who pray   
Hey, hey, hey...hey, hey, hey _

"What in the world is this bloody crap?" Severus exclaimed.

"Simon and Garfunkel," she said, turning the radio down a couple of notches. "It's from the movie _The Graduate_." "Oh." He covered his head with his cloak again and unsuccessfully tried to tune her out.

_Hide it in a hiding place where no one ever goes   
Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes _

"Don't you ever stop singing?" He was exasperated.

"Nope. Come on, join in," she pleaded, starting to sing again. "Coo, coo, ca-choo, Mrs. Robinson. Jesus loves you more than you will know."

"Wo, wo, wo," Severus said flatly. His participation, facetious as it was, encouraged Isabelle to belt out the words even louder.

"God bless you please, Mrs. Robinson. Heaven holds a place for those who pray. Hey, hey, hey…"

"Hey, hey, hey," they sang together.

Their eyes met, and they burst into laughter. Although he found her annoying sometimes, he was becoming quite fond of the Evans girl. Bordering on enjoying her company, even. Not that he would tell her that, of course.

-----

"Isabelle," Severus called out impatiently, tapping his foot. "Isabelle! What is taking so bloody long?" 

"Hmm?" She answered from behind the dressing room door.

For the past half hour, she'd been trying on outfit after outfit, having an absolute ball. Unfortunately, Severus wasn't half as amused as she was. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally emerged from the depths of the dressing rooms, carrying a stack of clothes and accessories.

"I've decided on these," she said with conviction.

"All of these?" He couldn't believe that one girl needed so many clothes. "Don't you have an entire wardrobe in the car?"

"They're _British_ clothes. We're in America, so I need _American_ clothes," Isabelle replied, as if this should be obvious.

"What's the difference?" His head spun as the cashier rang up the total. Dazed, he forked over a wad of bills, wondering how he'd become such a pushover.

"Men are so clueless," she pronounced, gleefully swinging her bag as they left the store. "Ok, where to next?"

"How about lunch? Those Twinkie things you bought for breakfast weren't exactly filling."

"I liked the Twinkies! Can't we skip lunch and go straight to the Dallas set tour? There's plenty of food in the car, I swear. Please?" she pleaded.

"What's the rush?" Severus asked, trying to keep a straight face as Isabelle gave him an incredibly sour look.

Ever since they had crossed the Texas border, she'd been humming the theme to the television show _Dallas_ constantly. Somewhere around Texarkana, she began chattering about how she and Lily had passed the last summer watching the show. And how she made a solemn vow to visit Southfork Ranch one day.

Severus didn't have an opinion about Lily Evans Potter one way or the other, so he didn't mind her chitchat. Although her constant prattle was a little annoying and wore his nerves incredibly thin, he knew what it was like to lose a loved one. Frankly, he was impressed that she talked about her family at all.

He was appreciative that she limited her musings to her sister, and didn't comment on James Potter or that insufferable git Sirius Black. Or their dangerous werewolf mate, who Severus couldn't believe Lily let near her baby sister. Most of all, Isabelle never mentioned Regina, for which he was most thankful.

"Come on! It's almost noon already," Isabelle exclaimed, jarring him out of his thoughts. He found himself being dragged towards the car.

"The city's not going anywhere," he pointed out somewhat grumpily.

"And, neither are we at this rate. Come on." She practically pushed him into the car.

Severus didn't make a comment as she fired up the engine and sped down the road. He clutched the dash several times when she began cutting off people and screaming obscenities at other drivers.

"Isabelle? Can't you slow down a little?" he asked, trying to remain calm. "No," she replied, cutting the wheel sharply to exit the Interstate.

He was so relieved to make it to the tourist trap in one piece that he was actually happy to take the tour of the silly Muggle show. Isabelle bounced from area to area, full of trivia that had he actually ever seen _Dallas_, he might have found interesting.

However, there was nothing about Texas that he found appealing in the slightest. Even the wizarding areas were bizarre. The food was disgustingly spicy, the weather was far too hot, and the people were nothing short of insane. He had no clue what was so enamoring to Isabelle.

"Isn't Dallas glorious?" she asked from behind her new ice-blue sunglasses with sparkly rhinestones.

"Charming."

Isabelle didn't catch his sarcasm.

-----

"Well, um, when do you think we'll get to L.A.?" Severus asked, trying to make conversation. 

"In a couple of days, I guess," Isabelle spat, pouting. She nailed the accelerator, making the Corvette lurch forward, as a social protest.

"Look, we couldn't have stayed in Dallas forever. We hit every mall, museum, tourist trap, and fireworks stand in the whole city. Any longer, and we'd be flat broke."

"So bloody what. I'm rich, so what does it matter?"

"You _were_ rich. Hate to break it to you, Your Highness, but things have changed. And this money spending habit of yours is one of them. When we get back to Williamsburg--"

"What!" she screeched, swerving and nearly hitting an I-20 Interstate road sign. "We are not going back to that horrible place. Anywhere but there."

"Yes, we are. I am your guardian now, and it is not up for discussion. As I was saying, when we get back to Williamsburg, you're going to have to get a job to support your lifestyle," Severus said firmly.

"For your information, I've _always_ worked. I'm not afraid of hard work. So you can take your attitude and shove it up your arse!" Her voice filled the small cab of the car.

"My attitude? Excuse me, but aren't you being a little ungrateful here? I saved your life, Miss Evans, in case you haven't forgotten. Not to mention taking you out of Spotswood. You could be listening to Nikki Sullivan's rantings right now."

Isabelle pulled off the Interstate suddenly and swung the Corvette to a screeching halt outside of a small diner. She pushed open the door and slammed it shut, stomping through the cloud of dirt her driving had created.

"Where in the hell are you going?" Severus shouted, completely pissed off.

"Away from you! I need a break," she screamed back.

The door squeaked on it hinges as Isabelle pushed her way into the hazy diner. When her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, her eyes flew wide open. She'd never seen a place like this before. At the far end of the room was a massive bar that spanned from one end of the room to the other. Behind the bar was every type of drink humanly imaginable, stacked clear to the ceiling on tall shelves.

About a dozen patrons were scattered through the diner. Some were at the bar, nursing drinks. Others were seated at large, round wooden tables, eating a late lunch. What struck her the most were the large neon signs everywhere. She made out several brands of beer, a bear, a small herd of deer, and a giant illuminated sign in the shape of Texas with a star in the middle of it.

"What are you doing?" Severus growled from the doorway.

"Getting a drink." She stormed to the bar and flung herself into a tall stool. The bartender eyed her up and down appreciatively.

"What can I do for ya?" he asked, leaning forward, far too close in Severus' opinion. He sat down beside her and gave the young man his grumpiest scowl. Fortunately for the bartender's health, he backed up a couple of steps.

"Nothing," Severus answered. "We were just leaving."

"No, we weren't," she said, eyes flashing with anger.

"Yes, we were." His tone of voice left no room for discussion. Isabelle huffed out of the diner, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw the car.

"Two tires have gone flat," she said guiltily, knowing that it was her rough driving that caused the tires to wear out so quickly.

"Don't we have a spare?"

"One spare, not two." She rolled up her sleeves. "Guess we'll just have to fix them magically."

"Oh, no, you don't. Muggles could be watching."

"What? You're kidding me. I'm not going be stuck in the back of beyond, Texas, just because some Muggle might be lurking about."

A loud argument broke out. Neither of them noticed an auburn-haired woman stroll up to them until she was right in front of the car. Severus' voice trailed off, clearly impressed with her tight jeans and cowboy boots. Not to mention the rest of her. Isabelle rolled her eyes as he openly stared.

"Can we do something for you?" Isabelle asked the pretty stranger.

"I was getting ready to ask y'all the same thing," the woman replied. At least, that's what Severus _thought_ that she said. Her accent could hardly be considered as part of the English language. "Y'all look like you've having some car trouble."

"To say the least," Isabelle mumbled, frustrated at Severus because he wasn't saying anything. She wished that he'd stop ogling the woman for long enough to actually speak to her. The woman sighed.

"This may be a little weird, but just go with it, ok?" She reached into her back pocket and removed a wand. _"__Repairo."_

The tires instantly reinflated, looking brand-new. Isabelle gave Severus a Look. He simply shrugged.

"Thank you," he managed to squeak out.

"You're welcome. Now, you're a cutie," she winked at him, "and I'd rather not wipe your memory. But, you gotta do what you gotta do, huh? _Oblivia--_"

_"__Expelliarmus!"_ Severus and Isabelle shouted together, wands drawn. All of a sudden, a jet of golden light briefly connected their wands together, before disappearing and throwing both of them to the ground.


	4. Chapter 4: Christmas Trees

**Chapter 4**

"What the hell was that?!?" the auburn-haired stranger exclaimed, whistling through her teeth. Isabelle quickly scrambled to her feet, pointing her wand towards Severus angrily.

"I thought you promised to protect me," she seethed. "Attacking me isn't my idea of protection."

"I didn't attack you," Severus said calmly, not breaking eye contact with the teenager as he carefully put his wand down and slowly stood to his feet.

"Oh, then me flying through the air and landing on my bum was a product of my imagination?"

"No, it wasn't. Isabelle, what kind of wand do you have?" he asked.

"What kind of stupid question is that?" She put her right hand on her hip in a huff.

"A stupid question that could explain what just happened," he responded.

"Fine. Leland Cypress, ten inches, with a core of a single--"

"Feather of a barn owl," Isabelle and Severus finished together.

"Useless for everything but the most basic spells. A very unsophisticated and primitive device, designed for someone whose magical gifts do not involve a wand," Severus said in a spooky voice, imitating Mr. Ollivander.

"How'd you know that?" Isabelle asked, laughing. "That's _exactly_ what Mr. Ollivander told me when I bought my wand. Kind of hurt my feelings."

"Because he told me the exact same thing," he answered.

"Wait a minute," the stranger interrupted. "You mean to tell me that little show was because y'all's wands are wand mates?"

"Yeah, the reverse spell effect," Severus said, shrugging.

"And your wands are made out of Christmas trees?" she continued, laughing.

"Christmas trees?" Isabelle repeated, puzzled.

"Leland Cypress trees are grown here in Texas at Christmas tree farms," the woman explained, hooting and doubling over in laughter.

"And other trees are used as furniture," Severus pointed out snidely. "And firewood, for that matter. What's your point?"

"My, my. Touchy about your wand, aren't you?" she fired back, raising an eyebrow suggestively. Isabelle caught her eye and burst into laughter. She'd never seen him at a loss for words before, and decided that she rather liked this stranger.

"I'm Isabelle--" her voice trailed off at the poisonous look Severus shot her, deciding to leave her name at that and stuck out her hand. "And you are?"

"Stacey Ferguson. I take it that you and Wand Man aren't from around these parts," she drawled, shaking the teenager's hand.

"No, we're not. And it's Severus," he glowered, crossing his arms and staring Stacey down.

"Oh, Mr. Ten Inch Leland Cypress has a name?" she teased.

Severus stared at her for a minute in disbelief. He'd never met such a crass and forward woman before. Although her demeanor initially repulsed him, there was something about Stacey that amused him. And it had been quite a while since a woman had truly captured his attention. Isabelle realized this and pounced. This trip was about to become a lot more interesting, she hoped.

"So, were you going to have lunch? Because we were getting ready to eat, and taking you to lunch is the least we can do for fixing our car," Isabelle offered. Severus began to open his mouth to retract her invitation, but Stacey beat him to it.

"Actually, I was heading into the bar for a drink. But, lunch would be nice, come to think of it. Not here, though. Food's disgusting." She wrinkled her nose.

"Isn't it a little early for happy hour?" Severus muttered sarcastically.

"No, not if you have to go to your father's Christmas party tonight. Who walked out on a twenty-five year marriage to Mom for some bimbo who's barely older than I am. Not to mention that they have a kid. Lynne's a doll, really. The only thing worth going over there for. But, I'm twenty-three and she's just a little over a year old. To make a long story short, I got off work early, and decided to grab a couple drinks before heading to Daddy's. Sorry to dump on you guys," she apologized.

"No problem. Everyone needs to vent sometimes," Isabelle said, suddenly missing Lily worse than ever. She swallowed back her tears, which did not escape Severus' notice. Stacey smiled at her gratefully.

"All right. Where to you want to eat?" he caved in, angry with himself that a teenager clearly had him wrapped around her little finger.

"Pizza America," Stacey answered decisively. "Y'all do like pizza, right?" "Yup," Isabelle nodded.

"What's pizza?" Severus asked quietly, feeling like a prize idiot when both women looked at him as if he'd just landed on planet earth from an alien spaceship.

"You mean to tell me that you lived in New York City for years, and _never_ had pizza?" Isabelle couldn't believe her ears.

"Guess not." He shrugged.

"Well, prepare to eat the best pizza you'll ever have," Stacey said with a small smile. Usually she didn't bother with strangers, especially foreigners, but this pair intrigued her.

"Sounds great to me. Should we follow you?" Isabelle inquired, eager to eat. She was starving.

"Fine with me." She turned around and hopped into a beat-up pickup truck while Isabelle and Severus piled into the Corvette.

"She seems nice, doesn't she?" she asked, watching for Severus' reaction.

"Um-hum," he replied noncommittally. "Just as irritating as you are. Remind me to have a conversation with Professor Dumbledore when we get home."

"You know you need me," Isabelle teased, knowing it was the truth.

Since they were thrown together, Severus had changed dramatically. In fact, she considered him nearly human. She grinned as he frowned, raised an eyebrow, and diverted his gaze out of the window. Several times, she had to fight from laughing as she eavesdropped on his thoughts concerning a certain witch driving a Chevrolet rust bucket in front of them.

By the time they reached the restaurant, Severus had gone through every reason that he _shouldn't_ be attracted to Stacey at least six times. The main justification didn't surprise Isabelle one bit. She bit her tongue, wanting to say that Regina was dead and gone – get over it. But, she still missed her own family more than words could describe. So, she let him stew in peace.

The smell of cooking pizzas made Isabelle's stomach rumble loudly as they grabbed a table. "I am so incredibly hungry," she pronounced. Stacey loved their British accents. At least, she thought at least one of them was British. Their accents, while similar, were noticeably different.

"So, where are y'all from?" she asked after the waitress brought their drinks.

"England." Isabelle replied before Severus could say anything. The look he gave her would've instantly melted every glacier in the ocean. "Well, from Virginia originally, but we grew up in England."

"Oh? And how did y'all end up here?" she continued, playing down her interest.

"Long story." Isabelle then began spinning a fantastical tale about how she and Severus were siblings. Their parents sent them away to boarding school in Great Britain, and Severus came home after graduation. But, Isabelle stayed in England until a couple of months ago when their parents died in a horrific car accident.

"I'm sorry to hear about that," Stacey said sympathetically at the teenager's very real tears.

"Thank you," she sniffled. "After that, I sort of had a breakdown at school. So, Severus pulled me out before I got into any more trouble. He suggested a road trip so that I could have some time to heal before going back to my 'real' life, or what's left of it. And, here we are."

"You poor thing." She shook her head sadly as Isabelle loudly blew her nose. The waitress returned, and Stacey ordered a large cheese pizza before excusing herself to the restroom. She needed to cry a bit after hearing such a sad story, but didn't want to publicly show weakness.

"What was that?" Severus roared quietly.

"Look, if I'm going to have an assumed identity, I want one that I created myself," Isabelle said defensively.

"Where the hell did you get the last name Randolph?" he wondered.

"From _A Magical History of Virginia_. Sounds cooler than Smith, huh?"

Severus looked like he was going to explode, especially when she smiled proudly and dug into her salad, as if she'd done nothing wrong. He shot her evil looks throughout lunch. However, he had to admit that Stacey was fun to be around. She and Isabelle happily chatted about everything from potions to the latest fashions. When the meal ended, he saw their faces droop a bit.

"So, um, if y'all are ever in Abilene again, drop me an owl or something," Stacey said, coyly smiling at Severus.

"Uh, sure," he replied, blushing a little. He waited until she left before starting in on Isabelle. "What were you thinking? You could've blown our cover?"

"What does it matter? I could stand in the middle of Diagon Alley and scream 'Hi, I'm Isabelle Evans, and I'm not really dead, see?' until I went hoarse. And people would laugh and call me a fraud. Stacey's nice, Severus. What's so wrong with having lunch with her?"

"You're a brat." He stormed to the car, followed by a laughing Isabelle. She loved being right.

"Why don't we stay here tonight? You know, sightsee a little," she suggested innocently. "Abilene looks kind of pretty in a desolate Texas sort of way." "Fine."

Isabelle grinned and started the car. They spent the rest of the day driving around town, stopping off to look at various historical sites. By the time they finished, it was already quite late, so they decided to search for a hotel.

"So, are you going to owl Stacey in the morning?" she asked, walking into the hotel suite with her bag and plopping it down on the floor.

"What gave you that idea?" he replied distractedly. Truthfully, he'd been debating that very question all afternoon.

"Maybe you should. I don't mind," she said eagerly. Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps I will. Good night, _Miss Randolph_." He shut the door to his bedroom before she could pester him with more questions.

-----

Isabelle looked over the rim of her juice glass and smiled internally. With any luck, Severus would agree to stay in Abilene over the holidays, which suited her just fine. The idea of spending Christmas in a cold, lonely hotel suite in Los Angeles, California, didn't really appeal to her. While she desperately wanted to visit Hollywood, it wasn't very Christmassy. 

Well, Texas didn't really fit her definition of a picturesque location to spend the holiday season. Oh, how she longed for the pristine snow covered hills of Hogwarts! It was hardly cold enough in Abilene for a heavy jacket; snow was completely out of the question. She closed her eyes and pictured snowflakes gently falling, making Hogsmeade look like something out of a fairy tale.

Hogsmeade. Lily. A wave of panic washed over Isabelle, causing her to stand up from the table abruptly, panicked. Severus looked up from his breakfast, concerned.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked slowly, watching her face contort in sheer desperation.

"It's snowing!" Tears began streaming down Isabelle's eyes, and she fell to the floor in a heap. "It's snowing, and she's all alone. What if she's cold?"

"What are you talking about?" he puzzled.

"Lily!" she screamed in a throaty voice, clutching her chest. "I miss Lily. She's all alone in the cold cemetery during Christmas. She's alone! I want my big sister."

Severus sat down on the floor beside the sobbing teenager. "I know you do. The holidays can be rough without the people you love."

Isabelle cursed herself for being so insensitive. Now he was bringing up old, painful memories, and she felt completely responsible. She took a deep breath to calm herself and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Maybe we should go out for a while and experience a Texas Christmas?" she suggested, blowing her nose. "What's Stacey up to?"

"Nothing. She invited us to her place for lunch." His face turned a little pink, but he kept an aloof facial expression.

"Oh, really? Us, or you?" Isabelle teased.

"Us. She said that she had something to show us." Severus shrugged, allowing himself a small smile.

"What's that?" she asked, grinning wickedly. "You fancy her, don't you?"

He frowned. "That's not your concern."

Isabelle laughed as he stood up stiffly and marched down the hall. "That's not my concern," she mocked him. "I saw the two of you the other day."

"What are you talking about?" Severus fought to keep his voice calm. She looked at him innocently.

"You two were awfully chummy when we were hunting for mistletoe. Inspired, I'd say."

"I was simply helping her decorate her apartment. She can't reach the mistletoe," he said defensively.

"Come on, I'm not a small child who's easily fooled. You were snogging Stacey rotten," Isabelle sang out. "I thought it was cute."

Severus looked at her as if she was insane. "Cute? You bloody spy! I'm going to change now, and we will pretend that we didn't have this conversation."

"You can pretend all you want, but we both know the truth." She stuck out her tongue as he slammed the door loudly.

-----

Severus shot Isabelle an evil look as he knocked on the door to Stacey's apartment. If anyone had told him six months ago that he'd be spending the holidays with Lily Potter's baby sister in Texas, he would've recommended that they seek treatment in the psychiatric ward at St. Mungo's. But, here he was.

A smiling Stacey opened the door. Her smile widened when she saw Severus, which was not lost on Isabelle. She really wanted the two of them to hit it off, partially for selfish reasons. Stacey reminded her a bit of Lily, and she really missed having a big sister-type figure in her life. Plus, she made Severus lighten up a little. He could be a bit too serious for her taste.

Isabelle sighed, walking into the tiny living room. Like any college student, Stacey had the typical cramped, bordering on ghetto, apartment. Her eyes swept over the mismatched furniture. The dairy crates as end tables never ceased to fascinate her. When Isabelle saw the large tree in the corner, she began laughing.

"Is that a Leland Cypress?" she asked Stacey, who grinned wickedly and nodded.

"Very funny," Severus said witheringly, but he couldn't keep a straight face. Soon, he joined in the laughter.

"I thought y'all would appreciate my Christmas tree," Stacey managed to choke out. "It's a little Charlie Brown, but I suppose that matches the décor."

Severus glanced sideways at Isabelle. "Charlie Brown?"

"You'll have to forgive my brother, here. He's not really up on his Muggle pop culture. I'll explain later," she said, making a face at him.

Isabelle was learning that beneath the caustic exterior, he really was a nice, fun guy. A real match for the Ice Queen, she admitted to herself. She daydreamed a bit while he and Stacey shamelessly flirted back and forth, accidentally dropping her small wallet on the floor. Stacey picked it up unconsciously, and froze in place.

"Who are you?" Her eyes narrowed as she stared Isabelle down.

"What do you mean?" the teenager asked innocently. Before she or Severus could say anything else, Stacey whipped out a revolver from her right boot and pressed it against Isabelle's temple.

"Don't play innocent with me. If you don't tell me exactly who you are and why you lied to me, you'll find out what Texas magic is," Stacey seethed, cocking the gun. Isabelle snorted.

"Texas magic? Guns aren't unique to America. And believe me, I know how they work." A lazy, deliciously vehement smile crossed her face, causing Severus' eyes to widen, and Stacey to falter a bit. "Go ahead and pull the trigger if you wish. My life is forfeit, and at this point, you'd be doing me a favor."

Stacey removed the gun from her temple and backed up a couple of steps. The calm way Isabelle reacted scared her, frankly. The girl truly didn't fear death. Obviously she needed to try a different tactic.

"Why is your life forfeit?" Stacey asked quietly, lowering the revolver.

Isabelle's haunted eyes stared through her, causing her to shiver unconsciously. "You want the truth?" Her voice rose. "The truth is that Severus is not my brother. In fact, until about two months ago, I didn't know him from Adam. He's as much of a stranger to me as you are. I have no family! They're all either dead or out of my reach. I have nothing, not even my own identity!"

Severus' eyes flashed angrily. "Isabelle, you speak out of turn."

"I speak out of turn? I think I've been a pretty good sport about all of this," she seethed.

Stacey's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "If he called you Isabelle, that must be your real name. Isabelle from England…witch…two months ago…oh, my God. Are you--?"

"I am Isabelle Evans, and I died on Halloween along with my sister and brother-in-law. Severus over there saved my life. For that I'll always be in his debt. So no matter what else you hear about him, he's a good guy." She smiled, knowing that she threw Severus off guard.

"Why would I think badly of him?" Stacey wondered.

"Because he was a Death Eater," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Thanks a lot," he grumbled underneath his breath. "And thanks for blowing our cover."

"Stacey's trustworthy."

In those two words, Isabelle cemented an alliance between the young Texan witch and themselves. Sympathetic to their situation, Stacey spent the afternoon listening to their story. Although it sounded like a fantastical tale, the sadness in Isabelle's eyes clearly showed the veracity of her words.

After that day, the two travelers decided to crash at Stacey's apartment for a while. Isabelle felt like she had a little family again – she, Stacey and Severus. An unorthodox family, perhaps, but during that holiday season, they formed a permanent bond.

Over hands of Exploding Snap (Isabelle taught the other two the fine points of the game), walks through town, and teaching Severus about Muggle culture, they became each other's confidants. They discussed their lives, and loves, with one notable exception, much to Isabelle's disappointment. She desperately wanted to hear the dirt about Severus' love affair with Regina. However, he never broached the subject, so she didn't pry.

Isabelle talked about losing her family, and her general confusion about the future. Having recently graduated from college, Stacey sympathized. Not one to be left out of the conversation, Severus put his two knuts worth in by stating the true fact that employers didn't want to hire reformed Death Eaters.

So, they put their heads together and came up with a plan. First, they would set off in the Corvette to see the country for a while, until Stacey needed to be in New York City for school. She planned to study chemistry at NYU. Isabelle had high hopes that she and Severus could stay in the city with her, but knew in her heart that she would return to Williamsburg. No matter what, they'd support each other, and keep each other's secrets.

Shortly after the New Year, they packed up the Corvette and sped out of town towards California. Luckily for Isabelle, Stacey shared her love of loud classic rock music, so they turned up the radio and sang away. Severus pretended to be irritated with them, but Isabelle knew that he really didn't mind. In fact, he found Stacey's slightly off-key voice cute and funny.

Outside of Tucson, Isabelle decided that it was high time that Severus learned to drive. So, she teased and goaded him into the driver's seat, trying not to giggle as he struggled to turn the car on. After choking the car out a few times, he managed to steer onto the Interstate. Not wanting to embarrass himself any further in front of the ladies, both of whom were expert drivers, he turned all his focus on the road.

By the time they reached Phoenix, he had the hang of shifting. Quite proud of himself, he decided to drive the rest of the way to California. Besides, it gave him an excuse to ignore Isabelle and Stacey's excited chatter about shopping on Rodeo drive and the possibility of seeing a movie star. How many clothes did two witches need, anyway?

The Los Angeles traffic tested Severus' newfound driving skills, but he navigated the roads well. Especially considering that Isabelle kept barking orders at him from behind her massive map in a hyper, high-pitched voice. He had a throbbing headache when they reached the hotel, and was more than happy to send Isabelle and Stacey off to the shops while he headed to the bar.

They spent an enjoyable winter in California, eventually renting a tiny apartment beside the beach to save some money. Even Severus got a tan, which Stacey found incredibly attractive. Isabelle became a true beach bum, practically living in the water. From morning until very late at night, she was either surfing or reading, half-buried by sand.

The carefree California environment began to heal Isabelle's raw wounds. She had plenty of time to think about things, and began to accept Lily and James' deaths. She even dealt with her beloved nephew in the clutches of Petunia, and Gracie stuck with Muggles.

However, no matter how she tried, she couldn't process Sirius' fate. Every night, she sat outside in the balmy air, thinking about cold, dank Azkaban prison. At least, that's how she always imagined it. The mental image of Sirius in that awful, God-forsaken environment always caused her to burst into tears. Sometimes she felt incredibly guilty for having fun while he suffered.

But, she knew that he'd be the first person to tell her to move on with her life. Easier said than done, though, Isabelle found out. Instead of going out with Severus and Stacey, she preferred to spend her nights idly staring at the stars and indulging her daydreams. And not once had she gone out with any of the surfer bums who constantly asked her out. She was a regular at the beach parties, though.

Although deep down, she realized that Sirius getting out of prison was a pipe dream, she couldn't help believing that one day, it would happen. And then, she'd get her chance with him. Isabelle usually walked along the beach, imagining what he'd think of her. Hopefully he'd finally see her as an adult, an equal.

At that point in her reveries, she abandoned all reason and fantasized about what could never be. She justified it by telling herself that without hope, she'd surely go insane. What other dream could she cling to? So, Isabelle wished on every star and constantly prayed that she would be with Sirius.

The winter turned into a hot California spring. It was definitely hot to Isabelle, who was used to Scottish weather. She felt like she was going to melt by the time July came and went. In mid-August, she packed up the Corvette along with Stacey and Severus, who were definitely a couple, despite their ardent denials.

No one was more excited than Isabelle when the New York City skyline came into view. The second the car was safely parked in the hotel's garage, she was out and about the city. Being from a much smaller city, Stacey also loved exploring New York.

The two witches scoured the classified ads, looking for the perfect apartment. Well, in between hitting Saks Fifth Avenue and every tourist stop imaginable, the managed to fit in apartment hunting time. They more or less ignored Severus, who was in an ill humor the minute the car crossed the New York state border. Stacey assumed that he was more of a country boy, so she dismissed his behavior as an urban phobia. While Isabelle knew better, she kept her trap shut.

Besides, New York City in the summer was wonderful; she didn't want to waste her time worrying about Severus' pity party. As usual, she and Stacey were wandering through Greenwich Village looking for housing close to NYU. Isabelle stopped in front of a small, plain building.

"This one looks like it," she said, removing her sunglasses as they climbed the staircase and walked into the manager's office.

There was something about this building that seemed eerily familiar to Isabelle. But she shrugged off the feeling and followed Stacey and the manager to inspect the available apartment. It was old, but cute, and Stacey fell in love with it immediately. So, she signed the papers, collected her key, and headed back to the hotel to move her things.

As soon as Severus saw the apartment building, the color completely drained from his face. In that moment, Isabelle knew that any hope of staying in New York City was gone. Now she knew why the building seemed familiar.

Damn Regina! Isabelle seethed internally. Damn her and her hold over people!

It wasn't enough that she had Sirius' whole heart, and was the mother of his only child. Who, without a doubt, was the center of Sirius' universe. She also controlled Severus from the grave, which clearly showed now.

Why does that woman have so much influence on my life? she wondered, as Severus carefully composed his face and helped Stacey move into her apartment.

Isabelle watched his eyes stray down the hallway to another doorway, and read his thoughts as they retreated into his memories. She sighed, resigned to returning to Williamsburg.

-----

_I'm on the highway to hell   
No stop signs, speed limit   
Nobody's gonna slow me down _

Severus frowned. Isabelle was taking this worse than he thought. She shifted, punched the gas and rocked down the New Jersey Turnpike at a breakneck speed. After passing a long line of slow-moving traffic, she turned up the radio and sang louder.

_Hey Momma, look at me   
I'm on my way to the promised land   
I'm on the highway to hell   
Don't stop me  
And I'm going down, all the way down   
I'm on the highway to hell _

"Isabelle, you're being overdramatic," he reprimanded her, shooting her a disapproving look.

"Excuse me? Overdramatic?" she screeched, blowing by a massive tractor-trailer. "Any road leading to that horrible place is definitely the highway to hell. And besides, the Jersey Turnpike could earn that nickname all on its own. This is the worst road I've ever driven on in my whole life. Why do we need to go back to Williamsburg, anyway?"

"Because you're from a small town, and that's all you know. Professor Dumbledore and I both feel that Williamsburg's the best environment for you." She sighed heavily. "But things are going so well with you and Stacey, and--"

"And I can't stay in New York. Period. I'd prefer not to discuss the issue any further." Severus glanced over at the teenager. His problems weren't her fault, and he felt bad for being so sharp with her, especially since she really was a good kid.

"I'm sorry, but we're going back to Williamsburg," he said in a kinder voice. "I understand why you don't want to go back, but you need to understand my point of view. Can we strike some sort of compromise?"

Isabelle lowered her sunglasses and looked at him briefly before turning her eyes back to the road. "What sort of compromise?"

"I don't know. Let me think." Severus sat brooding for a minute. "All right. How about this – you can either go back to Spotswood--"

"No way in--"

"Let me finish. You can either go back to Spotswood," he paused to give her a scolding look, "or the local Muggle school. Stacey told me about the American system. It's pretty compatible to what we're used to. I'm not fond of the idea of a witch in a Muggle school, but it's your choice."

Isabelle muttered something about that sounding dangerously like something Sirius would say underneath her breath. "And how I would I learn to be a good little witch, then?"

"I suppose that I'd have to tutor you myself," he grumbled.

"You, teach? You're kidding me," she hooted.

Now Severus was indignant. "Are you saying that I'm too daft to teach you enough to pass the N.E.W.T. tests?"

"No, not too daft. Too impatient. But, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and take you up on your offer. Muggle school it is." Isabelle turned her head slightly and grinned evilly. "Do you want me to call you Professor Snape now?"

"Wretched ungrateful child."

"Oh, you're too sweet to a girl, Professor. Keep complimenting me like this and my ego will be unbearable," Isabelle said in a sugary voice.

"How will I know the difference?" he mumbled inaudibly.


	5. Chapter 5: 'Anastasia' Revisited

**Chapter 5: "Anastasia" Revisited**

Severus pulled the car up to a dilapidated apartment building and stopped in front of a half burned out sign that read "Office". He turned the car off and opened the door, internally smiling at Isabelle's look of utter shock and disbelief.

"You're kidding me, right?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"I'm afraid not," he said grimly. "This is all we could afford with what Professor Dumbledore gave us. Apparently there's a freeze on your family's assets, and if he took out more money, people might get suspicious."

Isabelle looked like she might cry any second as she looked around. The two-story building looked like a third-rate motel building that had been abandoned for twenty years or so. The doors to the apartments were at least two different, mismatching colors of peeling paint. Her eyes traveled from the apartments to the rusty stairs and rickety balconies.

Home sweet home, she thought miserably. A hot tear ran down the side of her face before she could brush it away. Luckily Severus didn't see it, having gone inside to fill out the necessary paperwork. She managed to compose herself before he returned, and even smiled feebly when they walked into the dank, cramped space.

Severus took a look around, pulled out his wand, and started cleaning and fixing the place up. Immediately, the apartment looked much nicer, which inspired Isabelle to start cleaning as well. In short order, they had a spotless, tidy little home.

"Much better," she said approvingly, enlarging her bedroom furniture and arranging the room to suit her. Hopefully, she could talk him into spending a little money for decorations. Despite being small, the apartment seemed awfully sparse.

Isabelle bounded down the rusted, unstable staircase to the car and popped open the trunk. Since deciding to teach Isabelle himself, Severus took the new responsibility quite seriously. So, he owled Professor Dumbledore for a list of supplies and recommended course subjects. Dumbledore's response was somewhere in the trunk, she hoped. Isabelle wanted to find it before Severus realized that she lost it in the first place.

She was so sick with worry that she didn't notice a tall, blonde man staring at her like he was looking at a ghost. The man blinked a few times before grabbing a huge bag from the backseat of his car. He shook his head, as if to clear his mind, and disappeared from view right as Isabelle triumphantly grabbed the list from the far right corner of the trunk.

-----

Phillip Spence opened the door to his shared apartment, and slammed it with a terrific bang that rattled the Budweiser clock on the living room wall. Uncaring, he pitched his soccer bag across the room. He stormed to the kitchen, grabbed a beer, and threw himself on the dilapidated sofa. 

"Welcome home, Mr. Sunshine," a dark-haired, college-age man said sarcastically while flipping channels on the television.

"Shut up, Jake," Phillip warned.

The two men silently watched a college football game, each lost in his own thoughts. Seeing the blonde woman in the parking lot put Phillip in an incredibly bad mood. And, he knew that if he brought up the subject, Jake would make fun of him, as usual. So he sat and stewed until his friend couldn't take it any longer.

"What's with you?" Jake asked.

"Nothing," he replied shortly.

"Drinking during conditioning? Phillip, I've known you since we were in preschool, and I've never seen you do that," he pointed out.

"Well, now you have." He clenched his jaw and stared at the TV blankly.

Jake raised an eyebrow. "Does this have anything to do with the Wicked Witch of Williamsburg? Because if you've gotten back with her, I swear--"

"You swear what?" Phillip snapped.

"I swear that if the Witch _ever_ steps within fifty feet of my sister, and/or calls Sarah Lindsay trailer park trash again, that I'll disregard that she's a woman and knock her lights out," he barked, clenching his fists.

"That was a little over the top, even for Nikki. No worse than what she said about Isabelle Evans, though." His face remained impassive, but Jake wasn't fooled.

"Man, you need to get over this obsession," he told Phillip, who turned up his bottle and finished the drink in one large gulp.

"It's not an obsession," Phillip said defensively. "I saw this girl in the parking lot, and--"

"And she was tall, thin, and blonde. Chances are that she even had pretty green eyes. Do you know how many girls fit that profile?" His brow furrowed. Sometimes he really worried about his friend.

"Too many. But there was something about this one. She had this aura. It's hard to explain."

"Phillip, Isabelle Evans is dead," Jake said quietly. "Wanting her to be alive won't bring her back."

"They never found a body," he replied stubbornly.

"Because there probably wasn't much left of her. We both know this. It's time that you accepted her death, and moved on."

"But there have been rumors," Phillip protested feebly, his voice trailing off.

Jake snorted, in spite of himself. "There are always rumors. Like after the Russian Revolution and they never found the bodies of that Russian princess chick and her brother."

"Anastasia."

"Do what?"

"The Russian princess chick's name is Anastasia. I took Russian history last semester," Phillip shrugged.

"Impressive. Why do you care so much about the Evans girl, anyway? You only met her once," Jake wondered.

"Once was enough. This girl was beyond top shelf." He smiled slowly at the memory. "Not only was she hot, she was brilliant. Oh, and she liked soccer."

"Lots of girls like soccer. Speaking of, I know this girl April. She's not exactly Lady Isabelle," Jake snickered, using his favorite nickname for Phillip's crush, "but she's not half bad for a townie girl."

Phillip rolled his eyes. "I'll pass. I don't have much luck with townie girls. Come to think of it, I don't have much luck with women, period. I think I'm cursed."

"Maybe the fair Lady Isabelle hexed you with a love charm, so that you'll eternally pine away for her." He clutched his sides laughing while his friend shot him a poisonous look. "Sorry man, couldn't help myself. I'm heading over to Dad's for dinner. Interested in a free meal?"

"Nah. I'll sit here and pine," Phillip said acidly.

"Suit yourself." Jake grabbed his car keys and left the apartment, still laughing.

-----

Three apartments down, Isabelle took a break from arranging her mountains of books on the bookshelf and went to the kitchen to grab a Coke. Stacey got her hooked on the Muggle beverage; even Severus drank one every now and then. She wiped her forehead off on her brow. Despite well-placed cooling charms, the apartment was stifling hot. 

So, she decided to brave the very unstable-looking balcony to get some fresh, if not cool, air. Luckily, there was a nice breeze. Isabelle closed her eyes and basked in the brief respite from the hot, humid Virginia summer. When she opened her eyes again, she gasped and clutched the railing for dear life.

"Sirius?" she whispered, falling to her knees and peering through the iron bars.

On the ground, not twenty feet away from her, the living image of Sirius Black walked through the parking lot. Everything about the man was the same – the confident, reckless attitude, the dark, longish hair, his slender, but athletic build. Her eyes blurred with tears, and by the time she could see again, the man was gone.

"No!" she croaked nearly inaudibly. "Come back! Please come back…"

However, although she lay there for nearly a half hour, the man never returned. Isabelle began to wonder if she was seeing things. She knew that she wasn't hallucinating, but she had no idea what it was that she saw. Perhaps the man was just a Sirius look-alike. After all, Sirius was a famous and important man; his personal style often set the trends. But that would mean that the look-alike was a wizard, which was highly unlikely in this area of Williamsburg.

If the image wasn't a living man, then what was it? Isabelle wondered. Her hands suddenly clutched her heart. What if that was Sirius' wraith? She had heard of wraiths before, where an image of a dying person appeared to a loved one. But that would mean that Sirius was near death! The mere idea shattered Isabelle.

Or worse still – that Sirius had already died, and become a ghost. Cursed to wander the earth until he completed his life's work. Isabelle could only guess that that work would be to avenge the deaths of her family.

"Isabelle?" she heard Severus' voice behind her. "Are you all right?"

She swallowed back her tears, and composed herself. "Yes, I'm fine."

Somehow, Isabelle picked herself off the balcony, and walked back into her room. She curled up in a little ball on her bed, not moving until the sun set. When the moon rose, she excused herself to take a walk in the night air.

She wandered around town for a little while, daydreaming, finally coming home. She decided to climb up the fire escape. Since she was a girl, she always sought out the highest, most remote places possible to think. On her way up the shaky ladder, Isabelle thought about the afternoon's events. She became certain that it was her Discerner gifts that allowed her to see the wraith-like vision.

While it was nice to see a more tangible version of Sirius, the pain of the experience outweighed any small pleasure the sight gave her. As the thought, she determined that using her Discerner abilities had brought her nothing but trouble from the first. However, she didn't fault Mummy P in the slightest for training her.

Isabelle knew that the older witch would never make her suffer needlessly. And sometime in the future, she would probably need every ounce of magical abilities she possessed. But now, her gifts frightened, not comforted her. So, she chose to consciously close off her mind to being a Discerner, and live as a normal witch. Well, as normal of a witch as she could possibly be.

When she reached the flat roof, she didn't notice that she wasn't alone, and aimlessly wandered around. Phillip couldn't believe his eyes. There she was, the mystery girl. And as Jake predicted, she fit the profile perfectly, in looks at least. Phillip swallowed nervously, half-afraid to speak to her. And he was completely afraid of the inevitable feeling of disappointment when she didn't turn out to be Isabelle Evans.

"Good evening," he said politely. Her huge, green doe eyes focused on his face, startled.

"Feasgar math," she replied, unknowingly lapsing into Gaelic. The effort it required to stifle being a Discerner made Isabelle completely forget to concentrate on speaking English.

"Excuse me?" Phillip looked lost. Was she speaking a foreign language? She laughed, blushing a little.

"I said good evening," Isabelle explained. "It's Irish Gaelic."

Instead of the usual knife in the gut reaction, her odd British-sounding accent gave him hope. "Oh. Are your parents Irish, then?"

"My mother was," she said simply, gazing upwards at the stars.

"I'm sorry, then."

Isabelle looked down at this strange man, and discreetly checked him out. Although she couldn't put a finger on it, something about him seemed somewhat familiar. Perhaps it was the intuitive way he figured out that her mother was dead, she mused. She had met few people who were that perceptive.

"Thank you. Mum died when I was six, so I don't really remember her," Isabelle admitted. "I didn't mean to invade your space. I'll just be leaving now."

She turned to leave, but not before smiling flirtatiously at the stranger. Phillip didn't want her to go, but didn't want to seem creepy, either. So, he decided to do the next best thing to asking her to stay.

"Um, my roommates and I are having a party this Saturday night. If you don't have any other plans, why don't you drop by? The party'll be going on all night," he asked with his most winning smile. Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

"I'll keep that in mind." And with that, she disappeared back down the fire escape.

-----

Isabelle sat on top of the apartment building, gazing at the sky, as was her new evening custom. Despite everything that had changed in her life over the years, this was one little routine that she cherished, and would never give up. She squinted her eyes, focusing on Sirius' star, wondering how he was faring in prison. 

Her jaw clenched as she tried not to cry. She made a pact to herself that she wouldn't cry about it anymore, and concentrated on getting her own life together. Severus was right – that's what everyone in her family would want, including Sirius.

Well, she thought, I could either sit up here all night feeling sorry for myself, or I could get on with my life.

She resolutely stood up and brushed the dirt off her skirt after deciding to make an appearance at the party the boys across the hall were throwing. Severus was out for the night with Stacey, anyway, and she didn't want to spend the night alone. She climbed down the fire escape, nervously walked through the hallway and into the open door.

Spending the winter in California acclimated her to the American style of partying, so she calmly walked around the clumsily dancing couples and grabbed a drink out of the refrigerator, impressed that there was a bottle opener on the counter. Still feeling shy, she tipped up the bottle and chugged it down, quickly followed by three others.

"Glad you could make it," she heard a voice holler over the music. Her smile mesmerized Phillip as she crossed the kitchen, drink in hand. His eyes traveled over her tall, slender frame, struck anew by her beauty.

"Thanks. Nice party," Isabelle shouted.

"Thanks," he repeated, lost in her enormous green eyes. He couldn't bear to look at her, because she reminded him of bittersweet memories. But he was magnetically attracted to her for the exact same reasons.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked.

"No, nothing at all," he lied, internally wincing at her British accent. "Would you like to dance?"

"Sure."

They put down their drinks and muscled their way into the packed living room. Phillip was incredibly relieved. At least when they were dancing, he didn't have to hear her talk. He quickly realized that as horrible as listening to her accent was, it was nothing compared to dancing with her.

The way she smiled playfully at him while sliding her arms around his neck, how her hips swayed perfectly with the beat – she was the embodiment of temptation, even if she didn't remind him so much of Isabelle Evans. She loved the way he reacted to her advances, and the effects of a dozen drinks began to cloud her judgment.

"What's your name, anyway? You never did tell me," he said loudly in her ear.

"Isabelle," she called back, thankful that Severus allowed her to use her real name.

Phillip stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her as if she'd grown another head. Could this be – he wouldn't even let himself finish the thought. "Oh. Where are you from?"

"Dover, England," she replied foolishly. After all, what did it matter if a Muggle knew her hometown?

"How'd you get to Virginia, of all places?" he asked as casually as possible. She giggled.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she slurred.

"Try me."

"I don't mind if I do." She tilted her head up, kissed him seductively and looked at him through sultry eyes. "Is there anywhere we can go that's a little more private?"

"Uh, my bedroom," he offered without thinking. She took his hand and led him to the back of the apartment.

"So, which of these rooms belongs to you?"

"This one." He pointed to the left room.

Isabelle led him inside, closed the door and roughly pushed him against it, kissing him with every ounce of passion that she could muster. Surprised, to say the very least, he gently pushed her away.

"What's wrong?" she asked, hurt and a little embarrassed.

"It's just that I don't know anything about you, for starters," he babbled, putting a few steps' distance between them.

"There's really not much to tell," unaware that she had used those words before. Phillip stared at her like she was a ghost. "Oh, I think there is."

"Even if I do have a past, I'm not going to talk about it. So, can we drop the subject and dwell on more _pleasant_ things?" She closed the gap between them and reached for him again. This time, he didn't stop her. "You know, you're awfully nosy for a Muggle."

"Muggle?!?" he asked, realizing that she was drunk out of her mind. Either she was babbling, or—

"Yeah, a Muggle. Non-magical person, but that's all right. I'm Muggle-born, so I'm not as picky."

"How picky are you?" he wondered. He wasn't exactly the one-night stand type of person. In fact, he had no clue how he got into this situation in the first place.

Isabelle laughed and twirled around before flopping on the bed. "Too picky lately. I swear, I'm turning into a real prude. In fact, it's been a year and a half since I've even kissed a guy. So, I'm in the mood for a little fun, ok?"

He quickly did the math in his head. "Do you remember who you kissed last?"

"Yup, but he was a wizard, though."

"What was his name?" he insisted, sitting beside her and waiting impatiently for her answer.

"Phillip Spence. His girlfriend's a real bitch, though. Well, ex-girlfriend. I broke them up, and I wasn't even around. She deserved it for calling my big sister a gold-digging mudblood."

He looked at her in awe. How did Isabelle Evans end up in his bedroom? She looked at him through tortured eyes, and he instinctively grabbed her into a tight, protective embrace. Did she even realize how lucky she was that she spilled her secrets to him, and not to someone who would hurt her?

"I'm sorry about your sister," he whispered into her hair. "I'm sorry about everything. How did you end up here?"

"Severus made me come back. I'm so scared," she sniffled, too drunk to shut up. "I'm always scared."

"How can I help you?" he asked with a tight voice, feeling guilty that he was so happy that she was alive and in his bed, not necessarily in that order.

"Make me forget. Take the pain away, even if it's just for tonight," she begged. There was no mistaking her intentions.

Phillip couldn't force himself to let go of her. Tomorrow, he'd own tell her everything, starting with that he was a wizard. And, that he knows exactly who she really is, which would probably not go over well. So, he planned to make the best impression of himself humanly possible tonight and hope for the best.

-----

What on earth did I do last night? Isabelle thought, panicky, sitting up and rubbing her eyes to wake up. 

She looked around the foreign room, eyes finally resting on the blonde man sprawled out on the bed. Instinctively, she pulled the covers around her tightly, not as if it would make a difference. What was done was done, and her sudden shyness wouldn't change anything.

Not having her wand with her, she concentrated on the little bit of wandless magic that Severus had taught her over the past few months, and cast a sleeping charm on her companion. Having a one-night stand was horrible enough; having to face him in the morning was nothing short of humiliation.

Isabelle picked up a t-shirt and a pair of shorts off a clean stack of clothes in front of the closet, and pulled them on. She cracked the door and crept across the hallway to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she felt remarkably more human. And hungry.

When she opened the door again, her nose wrinkled in distaste. One thing she never understood about American parties was how the guests trashed the place and then left. The apartment was beyond messy. So, she decided to practice her wandless magic again. Everything was immaculate within short order, probably even cleaner than before the party.

A tall brunette let herself in the apartment. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Isabelle rifling through the refrigerator in the kitchen, but she kept her cool. Chances are that the girl was some random hookup of Jake's. He certainly had enough of those.

As she passed the kitchen, Isabelle's attire caught her eye – a deep green William and Mary t-shirt and a pair of soccer shorts. The brunette's jaw clenched furiously, and she quietly marched down the hallway and disappeared. Oblivious, Isabelle grabbed an apple off the counter and polished it on the t-shirt. When she looked up, her skin literally crawled.

Why is Nikki Sullivan standing in the doorway? Isabelle wondered. And why is she holding my sandals?

"Excuse me," the brunette said in an icy tone. "I believe these are yours?"

Something clicked in Isabelle's mind. If that was Nikki Sullivan, then the blonde man in the door was bound to be – what is his name? She searched the depths of her memory, but drew a complete blank.

"Well?" Nikki tapped her foot impatiently. "I found them in Phillip's room. Are they your shoes or not?"

Phillip! Isabelle thought. Phillip Spence. The boy I met a couple of years ago in London. But how on earth did I end up with him? And, what did I say to him? I don't remember a thing from last night!

Oh, how she wanted to smack the triumphantly obnoxious look off Nikki's face! After Isabelle smacked her silly, she wanted to pound her into the ground for what she said about Lily. But, Isabelle kept her cool; instead, she marched past her and into the hallway. Only then did hot tears stream down her face as she ran into her own apartment.

She rushed through the living room, flung herself on her bed, and sobbed despondently. Never in her life had she felt more humiliated. She knew coming back to Williamsburg was a bad idea. Wasn't that what she told Severus not two weeks ago? That she had minor acquaintances here that may recognize her?

But no, Severus said that she'd be fine, as long as she stuck to the Muggle parts of town. As a peace offering, he even let her use the assumed identity that she made up in Abilene. Why couldn't they have stayed in New York City? Or Los Angeles? Big cities, where she could hide and blend amongst millions of people. Why did Severus bring her to a small town where it took her less than a week to have a fling with Phillip Spence, of all people?

Talk about a blast from the past, Isabelle thought ruefully. From what she remembered, Phillip was quite the gentleman.

Apparently not, she inwardly seethed. Any man who continues to keep company with the likes of Nikki Sullivan is no gentleman. Not to mention the fact that he had a one-night stand with a stranger!

Isabelle didn't know how long she laid there, wallowing in her self-pity. All she knew is that after a while, Severus finally came home. She listened to him drop his keys on the small table by the door, and drape his cloak over the sofa. He turned on the lamps in the kitchen and put on the teakettle.

"Isabelle?" he called out hesitantly. "Are you here?"

"Yeah," she called back, sitting up.

Groggily, she stood up and made her way to the kitchen. She sat down dramatically and flung her head in her hands. Partially amused, Severus raised a curious eyebrow at her attire, but didn't say anything. He simply continued making his cup of tea and waited for her to start talking, which didn't take long.

"Severus?" she asked, peering over her fingertips.

"Yes, Isabelle?"

"I'm joining a convent," she said melodramatically, flopping her head on her arms. Severus couldn't help but be amused, although he knew something was truly bothering her.

"Why's that?" he inquired, trying not to laugh.

She looked down at her outfit. "In case you haven't noticed, these clothes aren't exactly mine. They belong to a guy I spent last night with. Oh, I'm so trashy!"

"Nah," Severus said calmly, taking a sip of his tea and sitting down across from her. Isabelle leaned towards him with wild eyes.

"I'm only seventeen years old, and I've already had two random one-night stands. Lily never, ever, ever would or did have a one-night stand. Compared to her, I'm filth."

"Isabelle, you're fine. Part of being a teenager is doing stupid stuff. So, Lily didn't have crazy flings. She did marry Potter, which can be considered extremely daft in some circles," he said snidely, as Isabelle burst out laughing. The animosity between Severus and James was legendary. She crossed her arms.

"Even you? What stupid stuff did you do?" she challenged, as he turned red. "Does it involve pranking my brother-in-law, or does it involve a girl?"

"A particularly beautiful, talented, irresistible girl. And, I was very stupid over her. Trust me, there's nothing you can do over your lifetime to match the dumb stuff I did for her."

"I accept your challenge." She sighed. Sirius was stupid over "her", too. Isabelle wished that one-day, a guy would be half as stupidly in love with her as they were with Regina.

As if _that_ is going to happen, she thought miserably. I'm relationship kryptonite.

"Oh!" Isabelle burst out. "I forgot the worst part. The guy I hooked up with last night is none other than Phillip Spence, boyfriend to the wonderful and charming Nikki Sullivan."

Severus looked irate. "The psycho hose beast that nearly drove you insane by insulting your whole family?"

"One and the same. I'm not only trashy; I'm a traitor." A tear spilled from her eyes.

"You're not a traitor, Isabelle," he said patiently. "Did you know who he was before you ran off with him?"

"No. I thought that he was a Muggle."

"See? You're not a traitor; you just have poor judgment. Stop being so hard on yourself. Besides, the nun getup doesn't quite go with your coloring," Severus teased.

Isabelle swatted at him, grateful that their relationship had developed so well over the past year. Severus listened and didn't judge her like Lily, but gave great advice from the male point of view like James and Sirius. With all of Remus' humor, although Severus had a dry wit and Remus was plain goofy. Having him around was like having all her loved ones rolled into one person, which was comforting. Especially since she was supposed to start high school soon. Not to mention having to figure out how to avoid Phillip and his evil girlfriend at all costs. Being a teenager was awfully angsty sometimes.


	6. Chapter 5: Unedited Party Scene

**Author's Note:** I'd rate this scene as PG-15 at the _most_, but b/c this fic was originally posted to the HP.com boards, I had to tone down the content.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Unedited Party Scene**

Isabelle sat on top of the apartment building, gazing at the sky, as was her evening custom. Despite everything that had changed in her life over the years, this was one little routine that she cherished, and would never give up. She squinted her eyes, focusing on Sirius' star, wondering how he was faring in prison.

Her jaw clenched as she tried not to cry. She made a pact to herself that she wouldn't cry about it anymore, and concentrated on getting her own life together. Severus was right – that's what everyone in her family would want, including Sirius.

Well, she thought, I could either sit up here all night feeling sorry for myself, or I could get on with my life.

She resolutely stood up and brushed the dirt off her skirt after deciding to make an appearance at the party the boys across the hall were throwing. Severus was out for the night with Stacey, anyway, and she didn't want to spend the night alone. She climbed down the fire escape, nervously walked through the hallway and into the open door.

Spending the winter in Abilene acclimated her to the American style of partying, so she calmly walked around the clumsily dancing couples and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator, impressed that there was a bottle opener on the counter. Still feeling shy, she tipped up the bottle and chugged down a beer, quickly followed by three others.

"Glad you could make it," she heard a voice holler over the music. She turned around and smiled at the blonde-haired man standing in the doorway. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but no matter how long she stared at him, she couldn't put her finger on it.

After a minute, she gave up. Why would she have any connections to a Muggle in Williamsburg? Her smile mesmerized Phillip as she crossed the kitchen, beer in hand. His eyes traveled over her tall, slender frame, struck anew by her beauty.

"Thanks. Nice party," Isabelle shouted.

"Thanks," he repeated, lost in her enormous green eyes. He couldn't bear to look at her, because she reminded him of bittersweet memories. But he was magnetically attracted to her for the exact same reasons.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked.

"No, nothing at all," he lied, internally wincing at her English accent. "Would you like to dance?"

"Sure."

They put down their drinks and muscled their way into the packed living room. Phillip was incredibly relieved. At least when they were dancing, he didn't have to hear her talk. He quickly realized that as horrible as listening to her accent was, it was nothing compared to dancing with her.

The way she smiled playfully at him while sliding her arms around his neck, how her hips swayed perfectly with the beat – she was the embodiment of temptation, even if she didn't remind him so much of Isabelle Evans. She loved the way he reacted to her advances, and the effects of a dozen beers began to cloud her judgment.

"What's your name, anyway? You never did tell me," he said loudly in her ear.

"Isabelle," she called back, thankful that Severus allowed her to use her real name.

Phillip stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her as if she'd grown another head. Could this be – he wouldn't even let himself finish the thought. "Oh. Where are you from?"

"Dover, England," she replied foolishly. After all, what did it matter if a Muggle knew her hometown?

"How'd you get to Virginia, of all places?" he asked as casually as possible. She giggled.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she slurred.

"Try me."

"I don't mind if I do." She tilted her head up, kissed him seductively and looked at him through sultry eyes. "Is there anywhere we can go that's a little more private?"

"Uh, my bedroom," he offered without thinking. She took his hand and led him to the back of the apartment.

"So, which of these rooms belongs to you?"

"This one." He pointed to the left room.

Isabelle led him inside, closed the door and roughly pushed him against it, kissing him with every ounce of passion that she could muster. Her hands traveled down his body, and began to remove his belt. Surprised, to say the very least, he gently pushed her away.

"What's wrong?" she asked, hurt and a little embarrassed.

"It's just that I don't know anything about you, for starters," he babbled, putting a few steps' distance between them.

"There's really not much to tell," unaware that she had used those words before.

Phillip stared at her like she was a ghost. "Oh, I think there is."

"Even if I do have a past, I'm not going to talk about it. So, can we drop the subject and dwell on more pleasant things?" She closed the gap between them and reached for his belt again. This time, he didn't stop her. "You know, you're awfully nosy for a Muggle."

"Muggle?!?" he asked, realizing that she was drunk out of her mind. Either she was babbling, or—

"Yeah, a Muggle. Non-magical person, but that's all right. I'm Muggle-born, so I'm not as picky."

"How picky are you?" he wondered. He wasn't exactly the one-night stand type of person. In fact, he had no clue how he got into this situation in the first place.

Isabelle laughed and twirled around before flopping on the bed. "Too picky lately. I swear, I'm turning into a real prude. In fact, it's been a year and a half since I've even kissed a guy. So, I'm in the mood for a little fun, ok?"

He quickly did the math in his head. "Do you remember who you kissed last?"

"Yup, but he was a wizard, though."

"What was his name?" he insisted, sitting beside her and waiting impatiently for her answer.

"Phillip Spence. His girlfriend's a real bitch, though. Well, ex-girlfriend. I broke them up, and I wasn't even around. She deserved it for calling my big sister a gold-digging mudblood."

He looked at her in awe. How did Isabelle Evans end up in his bedroom? She looked at him through tortured eyes, and he instinctively grabbed her into a tight, protective embrace. Did she even realize how lucky she was that she spilled her secrets to him, and not to someone who would hurt her?

"I'm sorry about your sister," he whispered into her hair. "I'm sorry about everything. How did you end up here?"

"Severus made me come back. I'm so scared," she sniffled, too drunk to shut up. "I'm always scared."

"How can I help you?" he asked with a tight voice, feeling guilty that he was so happy that she was alive and in his bed, not necessarily in that order.

"Make me forget. Take the pain away, even if it's just for tonight," she begged, kissing his neck and reaching for his jeans zipper. There was no mistaking her intentions.

Phillip didn't really care that to her, he was a casual one-night stand. All that mattered to him was that Isabelle, the ultimate object of his desire, wanted him. Any attempt at being a gentleman disappeared as she flipped her shirt off and flung it haphazardly on the floor, and he completely lost his self-control when she wriggled out of her skirt.

As her body snaked around his, he rationalized his behavior. Obviously she came to the party upset and looking to hook up. So, if it weren't him, she'd be having random sex with someone else.

At least I care about her, know what an amazing person she is, and what pain she must be dealing with on a daily basis, he thought distractedly, turning his entire focus to Isabelle. Even if she didn't know who he was, she meant something to him, and was determined to show her that.

Later that evening, Phillip sat up and looked at her peacefully sleeping form. He brushed her hair off her shoulder and kissed it softly. She rolled over, gave him a small smile and pointed at a picture of him and his teammates.

"So, you're a footballer?" she asked with a wicked glint in her eyes. He grinned evilly, knowing what she was getting at. At least, what he hoped she was getting at.

"Yeah, I am."

"Then, you're supposed to be able to play for ninety minutes, right?" She ran her fingers lightly across his very well built chest as she spoke, which drove him crazy.

How can she do that? he wondered. "That's right."

"Well, in that case I'm ready for the second half. Are you game?"

He grinned crookedly. "The question is, are you?"

"Does this answer your question?" Isabelle pushed him on his back with both index fingers and climbed on top of him like a woman possessed. She didn't know why, but she absolutely craved human companionship and affection right now.

Actually, she knew exactly why. Being back in Williamsburg put her on edge, and she needed to distract herself from bad memories of the little town. And spending the night in the arms of an incredibly sexy Muggle was a fantastic diversion.

Phillip couldn't force himself to let go of her. Tomorrow, he'd tell her everything, starting with that he was a wizard. And, that he knows exactly who she really is, which would probably not go over well. So, he planned to make the best impression of himself humanly possible tonight and hope for the best.


	7. Chapter 6: The Small Southern World

**Chapter 6: The Small Southern World**

"Are you sure that you don't want to take the car?" Severus asked anxiously, hovering in Isabelle's doorway. She picked up her knapsack and rolled her eyes.

"The school's only three blocks away. I think I can handle it. Wish me luck," she said cheerfully, checking her watch and flying out of the door. If she didn't hustle, she'd be late for her very first day of Muggle high school.

Humming, she clamored down the rusty metal staircase and onto the soft dirt below. An arguing couple caught her eye about twenty feet to her right. The young woman appeared extremely upset, so Isabelle rushed over to her defense. She'd been the victim one too many times to walk away from someone else being hurt.

"Excuse me, is everything all right here?" Isabelle asked in her most authoritative voice, standing up to her full height.

She was nearly nose-to-nose with the young man, who also stood up straight and tall. Isabelle nearly gasped aloud when he looked her in the eyes to stare her down. The sheer attitude reflected in his expression reminded her so much of Sirius that it was uncanny. No, he wasn't Sirius' carbon copy, but his coloring and build were similar enough to make him appear incredibly desirable to her.

Too bad he's obviously a jerk, Isabelle thought regretfully.

"Yes," the young woman replied. "Jake was just leaving."

The man clenched his fists and fought to maintain his composure. "Sarah Lindsay, why won't you listen to me? I'm not the enemy here."

"No, but you're certainly a stranger. You can't just float into my life when it's convenient for you. And, I really don't appreciate you moving into my building to spy on me. Take the hint – I don't want or need you in my life. So do us all a favor. Pack up your bags and move back to your mansion on the river," she seethed.

"All right, I'll leave you alone. For now," Jake replied calmly, taking a step back. "But, you're not going to run me off like you've done before. Not until I've spoken my piece."

"Is that a threat?" Sarah Lindsay roared. For a tiny girl, barely over five feet tall, she appeared quite imposing.

"No. It's a promise." With that, the dark-haired man stormed off, disappearing up the staircase.

"Thanks," the petite teenager said gratefully, clutching her books to her chest. Isabelle noticed that one of them read English 11, and another said Pre-Calculus in large, fancy scripted letters.

"You're welcome," Isabelle replied, shifting her bookbag to readjust the weight. "Say, do you go to Jamestown High School? I'm not trying to be all psycho weird or anything, but today's my first day of school, and--"

"You're not from around here, are you?" came her amused drawl.

Isabelle shook her head no. "I could tell by the accent. We don't exactly get pretty English accents in these parts. Sarah Lindsay, by the way."

"Isabelle Randolph." She smiled down at the other girl as they began walking in the direction of the school. "I know it's not my business, but is that your boyfriend?"

Sarah Lindsay sighed. "Worse. My brother."

"Oh?" She tried not to sound too interested, cursing herself for _being_ interested. For all she knew, Jake could be some insane serial killer or something, like Ted Bundy.

"Yeah. Long story." Her face darkened for a moment, and then brightened up again. "Anyway, what grade are you in?"

"Eleventh. Same grade as last year," Isabelle laughed.

"Did you fail?" Sarah Lindsay asked, rifling through her history book for her schedule.

"No. I dropped out for a year and decided to come back." There, she thought. That sounds nice and ambiguous. The other girl looked at her admiringly.

"Wow. That's really impressive. What's your schedule?"

Isabelle pulled a small piece of paper out of her pocket. "English 11, U.S. History, 9th Grade P.E., Chemistry II, Pre-Calculus, Home Economics, and Keyboarding."

"Can I see?" Sarah Lindsay quickly compared the two schedules. "We have four classes together. Very cool. I took Home Ec and Keyboarding last year, and ninth grade P.E., well, in ninth grade. Why do you have that class?"

"Apparently I need two physical education credits to graduate. My other school didn't have a P.E. requirement, so I'm stuck taking it for the next two years. I asked if my dance classes would count, but the principal said no," she explained.

"Oooooh, gotcha. So, you're a dancer? How long have you taken lessons?"

Isabelle nodded. "Since I was eight, so nine years."

Sarah Lindsay looked at her excitedly. "Have you ever considered being a cheerleader? Because we're a person short, and a dancer would be great."

"Cheerleading? As in wearing the short skirts and screeching?"

"That's a stereotype," Sarah Lindsay frowned. "I'm the captain this year, and I'm going to turn the squad around into real athletes, not just pretty faces. I read in a magazine over the summer that some colleges give scholarships to cheerleaders. I might could go to college on my grades, but I don't want to put all my eggs in one basket, ya know? Just think about it. That's all I ask."

The girls reached the school entryway. Isabelle gulped nervously as she walked inside. Sarah Lindsay pulled her into a large classroom, and they took the last two seats in the back right as the tardy bell rang.

Welcome to English 11, Isabelle thought, taking out her book. Whatever that entails.

-----

Gulping, Brittany Spence triple-checked her schedule and walked into Classroom 24, for Chemistry II. Her eyes frantically darted around, looking for an open space somewhere in a corner, so that hopefully she could remain invisible. So far, she'd managed to succeed in her goal, and was quite happy about it. 

Unfortunately, the only available space was at a lab table populated by two girls who looked like models – the innately beautiful, effortlessly popular type of girl who delighted in torturing her at her last school. Brittany slunk around the room, quietly sat down, and buried her nose in her Chemistry textbook. Luckily, the other girls didn't notice her arrival, and continued their spirited discussion.

"Say it again, Isabelle," one of the girls begged. The other girl sighed heavily, as everyone within earshot leaned in to hear.

"Fine," the girl huffed in an English accent. "Bugger off, Sarah Lindsay."

The petite blonde girl burst into hysterical laughter, and snorted in a most un-ladylike fashion, which only made her laugh harder. Brittany examined her over the top of her textbook. For an obviously redneck townie girl, this Sarah Lindsay had an ethereal, mysterious beauty. In fact, she strongly favored Catherine Deneuve, Brittany's favorite actress. She sighed wistfully and returned to her book. No use wishing to be beautiful or popular – two things perpetually out of her reach, and dreaming about either is futile. At least, that's what Brittany told herself.

"So, how's your first day?" Sarah Lindsay asked, still giggling. Isabelle couldn't help joining in; after all, she found her classmates' accent hilarious.

"Not too bad," she said, holding up a bandaged index finger. "I burned my finger in Home Ec, and spent the last part of the period in the school nurses' office. Which made Keyboarding last period incredibly unpleasant."

"That had to suck," Sarah Lindsay sympathized.

"No kidding. And guess what I have to look forward to as my last class of the day?" Isabelle wrinkled her nose.

"Lemme guess. Ninth grade P.E."

"Unfortunately."

"Good afternoon, class," a brisk voice called out from the front of the classroom. She waited for all of the chattering to die down before continuing. "Welcome to Chemistry II. Most of y'all had me for Chem I, but for the new students, I'm Mrs. Arehart."

The tall, hook-nosed teacher began walking around the room, passing out a thick packet of papers to each student. "This is a review of all the concepts y'all need to know before we begin the Chem II curriculum. I hope y'all like the other people sitting at your table, because they will be in your lab group for the rest of the school year. Most of the groups have four members, except for one group in the corner, I see. Sorry about that. Anyway, work through this packet with your group, and I expect for it to be completed by the end of the week."

Brittany began to panic. She had to actually interact with these bubbly, cheerful-looking girls? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the tall blonde girl flip through the packet, snort, and carelessly toss it on the table. Brittany suppressed a sigh. She figured that these girls would make her do the work and then copy her papers at the last minute, just like when she was at Spotswood.

"This sucks," she heard Sarah Lindsay grumble. "And we have one less person to divide the work with."

"That's ok. Three's a lucky number," Isabelle replied, picking up a pencil. "Excuse me?"

"Yes?" Brittany squeaked out, sounding remarkably like a mouse.

Both girls smiled at each other, and turned to face her. Oh, no, she thought. This is a nightmare. Isabelle smiled reassuringly at the mousy-haired brunette.

"Hi, I'm Isabelle. Are you new here, too?" She grinned her thousand-watt smile, which put Brittany at ease somewhat. Plus, the English accent was really charming.

"Yeah. I transferred in from another school," Brittany said noncommittally. As if these other girls had ever heard of Spotswood Academy, anyway.

"Me, too," Isabelle replied.

She immediately took a liking to the shy girl, and raised a questioning eyebrow at Sarah Lindsay, who smiled. It only took half a day for Isabelle to figure out how this school worked. By luck, she managed to befriend the most popular girl at Jamestown High, which automatically made Isabelle popular as well. The petite brunette looked desperately in need to friends, and if Sarah Lindsay Parker were friendly to her, she'd do all right at this school. Or at least wouldn't be a total social reject.

"Jeez, am I the only townie here?" Sarah Lindsay joked, making a face at Isabelle. "I feel like the Jamestown High Welcome Wagon or something."

Isabelle made a face back. "Hey, I rescued you. It's the least you can do in return for my bodyguard services. Hey, I forgot to ask what your name is."

"Brittany Spence. And I'm a townie, too. I used to go a private school," she said very quietly. Her eyes darted around nervously as Isabelle paled. She looked at the petite blonde. "What's your name?"

"Sarah Lindsay Parker," she replied, tapping her pen on the lab table.

"No way," Brittany whistled through her teeth.

She pushed her glasses up and closely examined Sarah Lindsay. Sure enough, she had the same eyes as Jake, and a very similar facial structure. Brittany sighed dreamily, thinking of Jake's beautiful eyes. A small smile crossed her face, which struck Sarah Lindsay the wrong way.

"What?" she snapped. Brittany looked at her nervously.

"I know your brother."

Isabelle glanced up from the packet, which she was working through for fun. "Wait a minute here. I'm really confused."

"So am I." Sarah Lindsay crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you mean, you know my brother? If you _do_ know him, you're not exactly the type to go to a lowly Mug—normal school."

Brittany leaned forward. "I'll tell you later, ok? I don't want to weird out Isabelle."

"Nothing weirds me out," she replied from the depths of the packet, deciding to move this conversation along. Against her better judgment, she used her Discerner skills briefly to figure out the situation. "I assume that all of us are of the wand-carrying sort, so please continue."

"Not me. People from my part of town aren't exactly welcome at Spotswood, are they Brittany?" Sarah Lindsay seethed. "Dirty little secrets like me are left to make their own way in the world."

"It's not like that." Brittany frowned.

"I'll tell you what it's not--"

"Sarah Lindsay, calm down," Isabelle interrupted, giving her a Look. "Brittany has nothing to do with whatever issues you have with your family, so don't take it out on her."

"You're right. I'm sorry," she apologized. "Hey, how do you know about wiz—wiza—our type of people anyway?"

Isabelle crossed her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "Because I'm one of you. Duh."

"Oh, yeah. Blonde moment." Sarah Lindsay laughed at herself.

"Hey! That's a stereotype, thank you very much," Isabelle huffed jokingly, making fun of the other girl's indignation at her cheerleading comment from that morning. "Well, maybe not. Everyone knows that cheerleaders are bloody daft."

Instead of becoming angry, Sarah Lindsay nearly fell off her lab stool with laughter. "Bloody daft!"

Isabelle looked at Brittany half-amusedly, half-exasperated. "She finds my dialect humorous. Whenever I say something 'English', she laughs for at least ten minutes. Anyway, how do you know her brother?"

"I grew up with him," Brittany replied, pushing up her glasses as she often did when jittery. "Well, sort of. He's my brother Thomas' age. They met in preschool and have been inseparable ever since."

And I've been hopelessly in love with Jake since I can remember, she thought sadly. Too bad he barely knows that I'm alive.

"Thomas Spence. I don't recognize the name. I did go to school with a Phillip Spence. Are you related to him?" Sarah Lindsay mused. Isabelle felt like she was going to be violently ill at the mere mention of his name.

"Yeah, he's my oldest brother. Phillip, Thomas and then me."

Oh, no. I shagged your brother! Isabelle thought, feeling incredibly woozy.

She looked at Brittany guiltily, wondering how someone so thoughtless and deceitful could have such a nice sister. At that moment, the bell rang, and all three girls jumped.

"Crap! Our assignment!" Sarah Lindsay exclaimed.

Isabelle waved her hand dismissively. "We'll get it done. Right now I have more pressing issues on my mind, like how I'm going to survive ninth grade P.E."

"You have that next, too?" Brittany looked as if she was drowning and someone just threw her a life raft. Sarah Lindsay's face lit up.

"I have the best idea!" she exclaimed. "See y'all later."

The petite blonde scooped up her books and ran out of the classroom. The other girls looked at each other and shrugged.

"Do you know where the locker rooms are?" Isabelle asked sheepishly. Brittany nodded, adjusting her bookbag on her shoulders.

"Phillip gave me a tour of the school last week. See, my brother's a," she dropped her voice so that other people in the crowded hallway couldn't hear her, "wizard, but he's also a great soccer player. Better than great."

Her face shone with sisterly pride. "He dropped out of Spotswood to come here so that he could play soccer. Do you like soccer? I guess y'all call it football. Do you even know about the sport? Some of our kind only cares about Quiddich."

"Oh, I love Quiddich." Isabelle's face mirrored Brittany's look of sisterly pride as she thought about James. "But, I do like football. Although I don't care for footballers much."

Brittany raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment as they walked in the locker room and dressed out for P.E. The last thing she wanted to do is lose a potential friendship. She'd never had an actual girlfriend before.

Maybe Phillip was right, she thought while lacing up her tennis shoes. He said that transferring schools was the best thing that he ever did, and that I'd enjoy Jamestown High. We'll see, huh?

-----

Smiling, Brittany walked out of the school's front entrance. She had never felt so happy in an academic environment in her life. Although the subjects were different, and in some cases, more challenging, than what she had taken before, she even enjoyed the class load. However, her carefree grin drooped when she saw a tall, blonde figure leaning against the school building. 

"Wassup, little sis?" Thomas Spence descended on Brittany. She scowled as he adopted his most charming smile, the one he used on her only when he wanted something. "How was your first day at your new school?"

"Fine," she replied neutrally, trying to escape from his clutches before she became an unwilling pawn in one of his overly elaborate, dangerous pranks.

"I need your help," he said, getting to the point awfully quickly, Brittany thought. This was going to be bad, bad, bad.

"Well, I knew that. What do you need?"

Thomas gestured wildly, causing his sister to roll her eyes. His cute dramatic act stopped working on her when she was about five. "I need some professional assistance. Since you're studying to be a witch doctor and all."

"I'm not going to be a witch doctor!" She exploded, shoving her brother roughly. "It's called a medi-witch, or a nurse practitioner. Use one of those two terms only, you prat."

"Prat? What the hell?" he puzzled.

Brittany shook her head as if to clear it out. "Sorry. There's this new girl from England or somewhere over there, and I think her slang is rubbing off on me."

"A new girl from England?" Thomas clutched his hands over his heart, and stumbled a bit. His baby blue eyes twinkles mischievously. "Don't tell Phillip, especially if she's blonde."

"Actually, she's a tall blonde girl from England with green eyes named Isabelle. And I think that she lives in your building."

"You're shitting me."

"I shit you not. Why?"

Thomas' face became very serious, almost grim. "That's what I came about. Phillip locked himself in his room the other day and won't come out. Something about the Evans girl. I really think he's lost it this time, Brit. You're the only one he really listens to, so I was hoping that--"

"That I'd Phillip-sit. Count me out." She turned to walk home.

"Please, Brit?" His face pleaded with her until Brittany sighed and gave in.

"Fine. But, there's no way that we're going to tell Phillip about this new Isabelle girl. She's really nice, and I don't want my dear brother to scare her off with all these accusations and stuff."

"Is she hot?" Thomas asked, grinning again.

Brittany rolled her eyes. "Yes, actually she looks like a supermodel. Tall, blonde, great tan, gorgeous. Every guy in the classes we had together was trying to get her phone number. Between her and Sarah Lindsay, I felt completely invisible."

"Did my ears deceive me? As in Jake's long-lost sister?" He groaned loudly. "Of all the people to befriend in the whole school, you find the missing Parker. Let's keep this one between us, too. I swear, between Jake and Phillip, I feel like I live in an insane asylum."

"Yeah, you're so normal."

A few minutes later, Brittany sighed heavily as Thomas opened the door to the shared apartment. As usual, it looked like a federal disaster area. She navigated through the living room, down the hallway, and loudly knocked on Phillip's door.

"Leave me to die," came a muffled voice.

"Told you," Thomas whispered. "I wish that the Sullivan wench hadn't twisted his arm until he went to England with her."

"You and me both," Brittany agreed, unlocking the door. "Phillip, I'm coming in, so you better be decent."

It took a full minute for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. The room was lit by one narrow beam of light that seeped around the bottom of his tightly drawn blinds. She closed the door behind her and sat Indian-style on a corner of his bed. Phillip emerged from underneath a blanket. Brittany fought the urge to laugh at the way his blonde curls stuck out every which way, like an Afro.

"I told you to leave me to die," he grumbled, disappearing under the blanket again. "How was school?"

"Way better than Spotswood ever was," she admitted.

"That's good," he mumbled. Brittany stood up, picked up a corner of the blanket, and yanked it with all her might.

"Get up, Sleeping Beauty."

Phillip sat up indignantly. "Give me back my blanket."

"Who are you, Linus?" she teased. "What's wrong with you, anyway? Come on, you can tell me anything. And if you talk, I'll give your almighty blanket back to you, wussy boy."

"Fine. It's complicated."

"Which means that it involves Vampira. Go on. What does Nikki have to do with this?"

"Ok, you know the last party that we threw?" He paused as Brittany nodded. "Well, there was this girl there, and she was gone in the morning."

"So? I'm sure lots of girls were here, and left before the morning."

Phillip turned so red that he glowed in the dark. "This girl and I, we uh…hooked up. Nothing like thinking you're going to wake up to one person, and you're stuck looking at Nikki instead."

"A familiar view, I'm sure," Brittany said snidely, smacking her brother upside the head with a pillow. "Why can't you keep it in your pants? That would eliminate a great number of your problems, like Vampira."

"Thank you, Morality Police. I wish that I had never gotten within five feet of Nikki, ok? She doesn't understand the concept of over. It's been over since--"

"Since the night the girl you met in England died. Phillip, I'm glad that you're over Vampira, but you really need to put this Isabelle Evans obsession behind you. And I really don't get why you hooked up with some random chick. That is so not like you." She frowned disapprovingly.

"Just leave me to my misery."

"Is that what's bothering you? That you had a one-night stand? Honestly, they happen all the time. As long as you were careful, it'll be all right."

Phillip pulled the blanket over his head. "No, it won't. Nikki chased her off, and I'll never see her again. Let's just drop it, ok? Tell me more about your day."

Although she really didn't want to drop the subject, she respected her brother's feelings. However, Brittany planned to bring it back up later.

-----

Shielding her eyes with her hand, Isabelle walked into the gym and searched for her P.E. class. After a grueling day of classes that included nearly falling asleep in Keyboarding and working her tail off to finish the Chemistry II packet, she was actually looking forward to working out. She waited for Brittany to walk out of the locker room, and they crossed the gym together. A large group of freshman whistled as they walked past them. Both girls gave them a dirty look. 

"Co-ed P.E. should be illegal," Isabelle mumbled underneath her breath.

"Totally," Brittany agreed, sighing.

She looked sideways at her friend, and debated on whether or not to ask about a William and Mary soccer t-shirt that she spied at the bottom of Isabelle's gym bag. It wouldn't be a big deal, except that it looked like Phillip's shirt. Brittany rolled her eyes at herself. They lived in Williamsburg, for crying out loud! Lots of people have William and Mary shirts.

But not everyone's t-shirt has grass stains on it, she mused. And I know that Isabelle doesn't play soccer. I asked. What if Phillip's _not_ crazy?

Nah, he's nutty as a three-dollar bill, Brittany snorted. And I'm almost as bad as he is these days. I really need to stop Phillip-sitting. He's filled my brain with one too many conspiracy theories.

"Isabelle?" Brittany asked nervously.

"Um-hum?" she replied, stretching out, much to the delight of all the males.

The leggy blonde bent over to touch her toes, which even got the attention of passers-by in the hallway. Oblivious, she straightened up and decided to try a forward split for mental amusement. She grinned up at Brittany from the floor.

"What's up?" She brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face, still in the split, looking perfectly comfortable.

"What on earth is Sarah Lindsay doing in here?" Brittany wondered, changing subjects in her mind.

"Good question." Isabelle narrowed her eyes suspiciously as Sarah Lindsay bounded up to them with about a dozen girls in tow.

"Hello," she said cheerfully. "Miss me?"

"Terribly. What's up?" Isabelle asked, suddenly getting a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Well, you said that you couldn't join the squad because of the time commitment, right?" Sarah Lindsay grinned evilly as she nodded slowly. "I asked Coach Jones yesterday if the squad could enroll in Advanced P.E. during this period and use the time to practice. Not only did he say yes, he said that you could skip out of freshman P.E. and practice with us. That way, practice will end at four o'clock instead of five. What do you think?"

Isabelle frowned. "Only if Brittany can hang out with the squad, too. I'm not abandoning her to the freshmen."

"Fair enough." She shrugged and turned to the other girls. "Ladies, I'd like to introduce y'all to the fourteenth member of our squad, the lovely and talented Isabelle. And this is Brittany Spence. She'll be practicing with us, too."

"Uh, I am?" Brittany's eyes flew open. Since when did she become involved in this?

"A fifteen member squad? One, I've never heard of such a thing. And two, neither of these girls tried out. We have a huge waiting list and a J.V. squad to pull more cheerleaders from if we need them," a voice from the back of the small crowd snapped.

Sarah Lindsay's hands flew to her hips. "One, I am the captain of this squad. Secondly, who says that we have to be a cookie cutter cheerleading squad? I think we can do some great stunts with fifteen members. And third, Isabelle happens to be a professional-quality dancer. Fourth, Brittany's a gymnast. Do I need to go on?"

"No," the squad chorused.

"You're a gymnast?" Isabelle hissed to Brittany.

"Unfortunately. How did we become Jamestown High varsity cheerleaders?" the brunette whispered back. Just wait until Thomas hears about this one, she thought ruefully. He'll never let me live it down.

"I have no clue." Severus and Stacey will never let me live this down, Isabelle groaned internally, following everyone else outside for practice. Welcome to America.

After a round of introductions, Sarah Lindsay began a grueling practice session. Isabelle had no idea cheerleading was so athletic. By the time the two-hour practice ended, she was tired and sore. And desperately wished that she hadn't gotten roped into this. Quiddich was one thing, but jumping and dancing around a football field wearing a mini-skirt was plain embarrassing.

"Hey, Brittany," a girl called out, pronouncing her name "Britney". Actually, when Isabelle thought about it, most people did say her name that way. How odd, she thought. She turned her eyes to the girl – Morgan, maybe? "Are you related to Phillip Spence?"

"Yeah, he's my oldest brother," Brittany shrugged. The other girls gasped in unison and swarmed around her.

"No way," a tall redhead breathed.

Isabelle tossed her ponytail behind her shoulders and huffed disapprovingly. "What's the big deal about him, anyway?"

"You poor dear." Morgan shook her head sadly. "We need to educate you. Phillip Spence graduated from this school a couple of years ago, and he's still a legend. A god among men. Welcome, sister of the god."

"You're being way overdramatic, Morgan." Sarah Lindsay rolled her eyes.

"Morgaine. It's _Morgaine._" The tiny, dark-haired girl scowled.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Morgaine of the Fairies." Sarah Lindsay turned to Isabelle and Brittany. "Ever since Fairy Woman over there read The Mists of Avalon, she's turned Wiccan fanatic and wants to be called Morgaine instead of Morgan. Yesterday, she said that she's going to become a priestess of the Goddess."

"Don't mock the Goddess," Morgaine warned.

Isabelle raised a skeptical eyebrow. This girl was clearly off her nut. Well, she'd have to be to consider Phillip Spence a god among men, she snickered.

Although, it seemed like the other girls shared Morgaine's opinion, by the way their treatment of Brittany instantly improved. They flitted around her, asking questions about her family. Isabelle stiffly made her goodbyes and rushed home. If she heard one more dreamy sigh or giggly comment about Phillip, she honestly thought that she'd scream.


	8. Chapter 7: Discrepancies in the Story

**Chapter 7: Discrepancies in the Story**

Isabelle sighed, closed her English textbook, and leaned over to pick up her copy of The Mists of Avalon from her nightstand table. It had taken a month, but Morgaine managed to convince her to read the novel, so that she too, could be enlightened. While she didn't share her friend's enthusiasm, she did find the book enjoyable.

Regina would love this book, she mused, flipping through the pages to find her spot. She always did love the Arthurian legends.

Surprisingly, a pang hit Isabelle, and a hot tear stung her eyes. She realized that she actually, genuinely missed Regina. And not just because she made Sirius happy or made sure Isabelle had an amazing wardrobe. Isabelle truly enjoyed discussing different forms of literature with the older witch. She banished the thought to the back of her mind as Severus knocked on the door.

"Yes?" she asked, wondering what he'd say if he knew her thoughts.

"I'm going out tonight. Are you going to be all right?" he inquired anxiously. Isabelle sighed, shut the book with a thump, and rolled her eyes in classic teenage fashion.

"Yeah. Sarah Lindsay's coming over. No wild parties," she added with a small smile. He shot her a particularly withering stare; the one she suspected could melt cauldrons.

"Sometimes I wonder why I bother. I shall return tomorrow afternoon." Isabelle burst out laughing at his formal language. Who was he kidding? He acted like he was headed to a night at the opera or something. "I shall see you upon your return."

A loud clanking at the window announced Sarah Lindsay's arrival. Both she and Isabelle preferred to use the fire escape to travel between their apartments and outside, mostly because the boys' apartment was only three doors down. And neither girl wanted to run into anyone from _that_ particular apartment.

"Bubba! How the heck are you?" Sarah Lindsay exclaimed, swinging her legs over the window ledge and bounding into the room. Severus tried to scowl at the bubbly blonde, but failed miserably, despite his antipathy towards the nickname.

"About to leave for New York for the evening," he replied evenly. Sarah Lindsay grinned.

"Ooooh, hot date, huh? Nice." Her brown eyes twinkled evilly, causing Severus to begin his strategic retreat. He wasn't used to being teased by anyone, much less hormonal teenagers, about his love life.

"Be careful," both girls called out as he closed the door, imitating him perfectly. He always said that whenever Isabelle went anywhere lately.

Sarah Lindsay flopped on the bed, causing it to squeak loudly. "You know, Bubba might be kind of serious, but he's pretty cool."

"Yeah, he is." Isabelle replied, drawing her knees to her chest. "Where'd you come up with that goofy nickname, anyway?"

"Most people in these parts have a nickname, so I decided that his is Bubba. Severus is way too--" her mind searched for the appropriate word, "formal for someone who lives in this 'classy' apartment building."

"True that. Speaking of people who live in this apartment building…"

Sarah Lindsay groaned and covered her head with her arms. "Not this again! I have nothing to say to Jake."

"Brit seems to think that you do." Isabelle raised an eyebrow. The other girl frowned deeply. "Well, she _did_ grow up around your brother. Maybe she knows what she's talking about."

"Doubtful. I have a hard time believing Jake's sob story. And Brit tells me that it hurts her feelings that you won't go over her house with me." "I can't." Isabelle hung her head in shame. "It's complicated. It has nothing to do with her…"

"Then who does it have to do with? How many Spences do you know, for crying out loud? You're an import," Sarah Lindsay puzzled, as her friend blushed and buried her face in her pillow.

"Fine, if you tell me the _whole_ story about your messed up family, I'll tell you my secret," she said, peeking out from the pillow.

"Secret? There's a secret?" She rubbed her hands together excitedly. This sounded juicy. Isabelle sat up, leaned over, and whispered into Sarah Lindsay's ear. "No way! You – and Phillip Spence? Holy stars above! You're kidding, right?"

"Unfortunately not. And, since I snuck out the next morning, I haven't talked to him since then. Chances are, he may not remember me. But what if he does? What if Brittany finds out, and she gets upset that I had a one-night stand with her brother?" Isabelle dramatically flopped back on her pillows.

"Well, both of y'all are over the legal age of consent, so who cares?" she asked practically.

"_I_ care!" She bit her lip. "Anyway, I don't want to run into him, so I avoid the Spences' house. Now it's your turn. What's up with your weird family?"

Sarah Lindsay sighed heavily. "Long story. The short version of it is that I'm a love child of the Shad Planking." "The _what?_" Isabelle had never heard of such a thing. Was this a bizarre religious ritual or something, like the Beltane fires in The Mists of Avalon?

"The Shad Planking," she repeated, rolling her eyes. "It's this huge tradition in these parts. Every April, the movers and shakers of Virginia converge in Wakefield. That's a town across the river. Virginia's still run by the 'good 'ole boys club', and this event is a chance for policy makers to plan stuff and socialize."

"I see."

"My father's a big time official in the OMA, or so I've heard. His kind mingles with the Muggles, mostly to make sure that the OMA's agenda passes through the correct political channels. So, he was there, and meets my mom, who was in charge of the drinks."

"The drinks?" Isabelle asked, trying to stifle a giggle.

"Yeah, she flirted with my father by passing him a Dixie cup. Classy stuff. My father was thinking of separating with Jake's mom, and my mom was in the mood for a little fun. So, after everything was over, they headed back to his truck, and here I am," Sarah Lindsay concluded.

"I take it that your parents didn't ever really get together?"

"Nope. Mom found my father, told him she was pregnant, and that was pretty much that. My brother," she spat the last word, "has a very different version of what happened next than I do."

"Keep going," Isabelle encouraged her. Sarah Lindsay took another deep, calming breath before continuing.

"The only thing we agree on is that my father insisted that I have his name. Jake says this was because he intended on me being a part of the great and mighty Parker family. According to him, his mom made our father choose between her or me. Jake's mom didn't like the idea of our father parading his illegitimate child around all of their friends. So, our father chose me, and got a divorce. In my opinion, our father was going to get a divorce anyway. I was a convenient excuse, so the name thing was just the last nail in the coffin to drive his wife away."

"Ok…is that it?"

"Not hardly. See, the Parkers are of the wand-carrying sort, as you know. Well, Mom's a Muggle. So, I've never had any magical training."

"You're kidding," Isabelle breathed.

"I wish. Jake says that when I was about to go to middle school, our father asked Mom if I could go to Spotswood Academy. But, Mom said no. I don't believe that for a second. Why would she do that? Doesn't make a lick of sense. I told Jake that, and do you know what he had the nerve to say? That Mom's crazy! And worse – that she's been spending thousands of child support dollars that our father's sent for me over the years on herself. That's such a load of crock. Yeah, Mom and I really enjoy living in dumps like this."

"But, why would Jake lie?"

"I have no clue," Sarah Lindsay admitted. "He keeps saying that he wants to get to know me, which is why he moved into the building with your lover boy. Incidentally, do you have a clue how many girls would give anything to be with Phillip Spence? He's hot! And not exactly known for one-night stands. You must've really made an impression on him…"

Isabelle's face turned bright red again. "Let's not discuss him, ok? Back on point, which is that your brother has everything to lose by trying to have any sort of relationship with you. Maybe he's being honest, and you should give him a chance."

"We'll see."

An hour later, Sarah Lindsay bounded back through the window. She smiled weakly as Isabelle looked up from her Chemistry homework.

"So, how'd it go?" she asked, closing the heavy textbook.

"Oh, my gosh, Brittany's brother is so incredibly sexy," Sarah Lindsay gushed. "He opened the door, and I swear that I could hardly put together a sentence. I really--"

"Need to stop talking about Phillip, for crying out loud!" Isabelle finished. Her friend giggled.

"I wasn't talking about your man," she teased. "Not stepping into your turf, trust me. I meant her _other_ brother, the one who's Jake's age. Thomas. He's a freshman at William and Mary, too, and he is so funny. Brit needs to hook me up. Remind me to talk to her about it on Monday?"

"Do you really want to get involved with your estranged brother's mate?" she pointed out to Sarah Lindsay, who shrugged.

"Wasn't it you who said that I should make peace with Jake and all that? What better way than to hook up with his best friend from childhood?" She giggled again. "Oh, we're going to dinner at Dad's house next Sunday."

Isabelle looked up, panicked. Next Sunday was Halloween, and she planned to mark the one-year anniversary of her sister's death by hiding underneath her covers and wishing that the entire world would disappear. No way would she be in any shape to socialize with anyone, especially strangers. "Uh…"

"Don't worry, your lover boy won't be there. Just me, Jake and our dad. And you, please? I really, really need you there for moral support." Her brown eyes pleaded with Isabelle until she gave in. Maybe being alone on Halloween wasn't such a good idea, anyway.

"Fine, but only on one condition."

"Shoot."

"Stop calling Phillip my lover boy! And I swear if you breathe a word of him and me to Brit, I swear that I'll inflict massive amounts of pain upon your person."

"Spoilsport."

-----

Just one more lap, Isabelle told herself. One more lap, and I can strangle Sarah Lindsay for this insane conditioning schedule.

She picked up her pace, eager to finish the five-mile run. Since joining the squad, she learned exactly how athletic cheerleading could be. Every morning, Sarah Lindsay beat her window down until she crawled out of bed for their morning jog and aerobics. Then, there was the usual two-hour practice, followed by a five-mile run.

However, all of the work had paid off. The Jamestown High varsity cheerleading squad quickly became the highlight of the football games. In fact, more people came to the games to see what new, insane routine the cheerleaders would be pulling off than people actually interested in the game. Although football season would be over in a couple of weeks, the squad still had a full schedule of competitions throughout the winter. Then, spring conditioning and tryouts.

So, there's no conceivable end to the madness, Isabelle realized, flopping down on the cool grass. Why did I sign up for this, anyway?

Sarah Lindsay collapsed beside her, and rolled over, propping her head on her elbow. "Isabelle, can you go me a favor?"

"What?" she grumbled, half-asleep.

"Wake up!" She threw a pom-pom at her resting friend. "I need to borrow an outfit for Sunday night. My dad's kind of, um, well-off."

Isabelle sat up and looked at Sarah Lindsay sleepily. "Sure. What kind of outfit were you thinking about? Is this a casual dinner, or something more formal?"

As the two girls chatted, Brittany tuned them out and let her eyes wander around the field. She hid her disappointment that her family had Halloween plans, so she couldn't go to the Parkers' house with them. Instead of a night of staring at Jake, she was stuck Phillip-sitting. Again. She sighed heavily.

"Is there any way you can get out of your plans?" Sarah Lindsay asked anxiously, causing Brittany to snap out of her trance.

"'Fraid not," she replied sadly. "Trust me, I would if I could."

"But, you know my dad, right? And my brother? I don't know them at all! I don't even know where they live. What if I make an idiot of myself? They don't know me, either, and--" she babbled, until Isabelle clasped her hand over Sarah Lindsay's mouth. "Mrhpshaieiawlefssef--"

"You'll be fine. You have me, after all!" Isabelle smiled brilliantly.

"Oh!" Sarah Lindsay smacked her forehead. "Brit, is your brother seeing anyone?"

The brunette rolled her eyes. "No, but trust me, Phillip could use a woman. Scratch that. The right woman, or at least one who's not psycho."

"I didn't mean Phillip," she frowned, elbowing Isabelle, who shoved Sarah Lindsay back and gave her an evil look. Brittany's eyebrows practically hit her scalp line.

"You meant Thomas? As in Thomas? _Thomas?_" Her face pursed, as if she'd kissed a lemon. "Thomas?!?"

"Yes, Thomas. So?" She looked at Brittany expectantly.

"Oh, no," she said, shaking her head violently. "You don't want anything to do with Thomas. He's crazy. And spacey. He has no direction or ambition other than the next insane prank he's planning to pull. Not to mention your brother's best friend. Jake would skin me alive if I set you up with him. Believe it or not, he's very protective of you. And there's no way he'd approve of you with Thomas. Huh-uh, no way."

Sarah Lindsay pouted. "I like crazy. He sounds fun. Can't you just--"

"No." Brittany stood up and bolted for the locker room. The last thing she needed was for her new friends to get mixed up with her brothers.

-----

When Isabelle returned from Mass early Sunday morning, Sarah Lindsay was already waiting for her in her room. Isabelle had hoped for some time to gather herself together after spending time in quiet reflection over the past year's events during the Mass, and lighting candles for her family afterwards. But, no such luck – life moves on. 

At least, that's what she told herself as she carefully placed her Bible, a confirmation gift from Sirius, on her desk. She lovingly ran her hand across the navy blue leather, and smiled sadly. Time hadn't made her affection for Sirius fade one bit; in fact, she loved him more than ever. However, the nervous look on her friend's face made her put away her thoughts for later.

"Where have you been?" Sarah Lindsay anxiously inquired.

"Where I am every Sunday morning," Isabelle reminded her. "Mass."

She frowned. "Ok, explain this to me. You're an incredibly devout Catholic right? Why isn't Bubba?"

"Because Sev's an agnostic. Bad stuff happens to me, and it strengthens my faith. But, bad stuff makes Sev question the existence of any higher being. So, I go to Mass, and he stays home."

Sarah Lindsay wasn't convinced. Little things, here and there, didn't always add up. She did believe that Bubba and Isabelle were somehow connected, but they were too different to be brother and sister. For instance, Isabelle's amazing wardrobe. She possessed a complete designer wardrobe, but lived in one of the poorest areas of town. This made no sense, especially since Bubba dressed pretty simply, like any regular guy she knew. But, she dearly loved her new friend. Unlike most of her other friends, she didn't feel the need to hide her messed-up life from Isabelle. Somehow she knew that Isabelle related to her, empathized. Which was very comforting. So, Sarah Lindsay kept her mouth shut and didn't ask any questions about her Isabelle's personal life.

While Sarah Lindsay mused, Isabelle crossed the room, and rifled through her closet for potential outfits for the dinner that evening. Although she really hadn't added much to her wardrobe since Regina died, her clothes were still very much in style. And, she figured that both of them should dress the part of witches, so she headed to that part of her closet.

She hummed while tossing whole outfits on the bed. Finally satisfied at the selection, she turned to face Sarah Lindsay, who was looking at the robes skeptically. Isabelle fought a laugh, remembering that she felt the same way when she was little and saw wizarding fashion for the first time.

"Trust me," Isabelle pleaded, clasping her hands together. "If there's one thing I know, it's how to dress to impress. When I'm done with you, you're going to look like a million Galleons."

"Ok," she said slowly, wondering what a Galleon was. Her curiosity got the best of her. "What's a Galleon?"

"The name of a wizarding coin in England," she replied, feeling like smacking herself. Sarah Lindsay was edgy enough without Isabelle making her feel ignorant.

While the girls chose their robes and began getting ready, Isabelle gave Sarah Lindsay a crash course on wizarding culture. She described fashion, politics, even Quiddich. By the time they put the finishing touches on their makeup, Sarah Lindsay felt far more confident. While she historically had nothing but disdain for her father and brother, she couldn't help wanting to make a good impression on them. Especially if Isabelle was right, and they weren't total monsters.

"Ready spaghetti?" Isabelle joked, turning around in front of her full-length mirror. A huge grin lit up her face. After a year of going incognito and denying her wizarding background, it felt fantastic to look and feel like a witch again.

Sarah Lindsay gulped. "Ready as I'll ever be. Jake said that he'd be waiting for us in the parking lot. Oh, I wish that Brittany were here! Not that you're bad company or anything, but--"

"I get it." She sighed, walking into the living room, where Severus was attempting to watch the television. He looked up, and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Have fun, ladies," was all he said.

By habit, they slid through the window in a very un-ladylike fashion and bounded down the fire escape, laughing and joking the entire way down. Isabelle's breath caught in her throat at the sight of a dark haired young man casually leaning against the hood of a car. Wide-eyed, she crept towards Jake Parker, who mistook her awe for his car for interest in him, at least until she opened her mouth.

"Saints above," Isabelle breathed. "Does this amazing machine belong to you?" Slightly wounded, he nonetheless beamed proudly. "Yup. It's a--"

"1968 Shelby GT 500-KR fastback. Well, 1968 and a half." Her eyes twinkled as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Impressive," Jake admitted, his eyes slowly taking in her short, stylish green robes that perfectly showed off her mile-long legs. He'd never met a girl who knew anything about cars, much less that his particular vehicle was made halfway through the 1968 model year. Most girls didn't even know that his Shelby was more or less a souped-up Mustang.

"No, this car's impressive." Isabelle turned to Sarah Lindsay, who looked lost. "Only 933 of this particular car were made. Incredibly rare, and extremely powerful. This car was made because of rumor that Chevy was going to put out a 396 Camero. Well, Shelby beat them with this bad boy. The KR part of the name stands for King of the Road. Ford man, huh?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, but I don't think we've been properly introduced, although I definitely remember you," he teased.

"Likewise. Isabelle Randolph, and while I appreciate your 428 Cobra Jet engine and 420 pounds of torque, I'm a Chevy girl myself."

His jaw dropped open. "Jake Parker. Pleased to make your acquaintance. So, are you joining us for dinner?"

"If I can drive," she replied.

"What?" He was genuinely puzzled.

"If I can drive," Isabelle repeated. "Or do you have a problem with other people playing with your toy?"

"Not at all." The corners of his mouth turned up at her double meaning, and he dropped his key ring in her outstretched hand.

"Thank you." She winked flirtatiously, and Sarah Lindsay almost kicked her.

First she fools around with Brittany's older brother, and now Isabelle's making moves on mine? she thought irritably. Although the Phillip thing was a sort of accident, and my brother's hot, if I do say so myself, she admitted as she hopped in the passenger's seat.

Like any self-respecting Southern gentleman, Jake crawled into the cramped back seat and sat uncomfortably in between the bucket seats so that he could give Isabelle directions. She cranked up the car, and baked tires for at least half a mile. Sarah Lindsay clutched the sides of her seat, petrified. Isabelle laughed hysterically, but slowed down a bit.

"Nice driving," Jake whispered in her ear. His breath made the tiny hairs stand up on the back of Isabelle's neck, and she rather enjoyed the sensation, although it was a guilty pleasure. She smiled to herself as he leaned closer to make sure she heard his directions over the stereo, which was blaring.

Five minutes later, Isabelle turned down the long gravel lane to the Parker home, and saw her friend pale considerably. She gave Sarah Lindsay a reassuring look while parking the car. They piled out of the sports car, and Isabelle tossed Jake his keys.

"Thanks for letting me drive," she said, as he caught the key ring in his left hand. "You're a leftie, too?"

"We are superior beings." Jake radiated a type of bad-boy charm that left Isabelle nearly breathless. He led the ladies up the staircase, onto a wide, sweeping porch, and he held the door open as they walked inside a large foyer.

Isabelle sighed happily, looking around. Although the style of the Parker home couldn't be more different that her childhood home, the massive scale reminded her of the Dover estate. She felt at home among the spacious, tastefully decorated rooms, unlike Sarah Lindsay, who fidgeted with the hem of her rose-colored robes.

A large portrait in the living room caught her eye. Her high-heeled sandals tapped across the hardwood floor as she crossed the room and stood in front of an enormous stone fireplace. A silver-framed black and white portrait of the river during a thunderstorm was the only object on the hearth, and rightly so.

"That's a beautiful picture," Isabelle commented. "Was this taken on your estate?"

"No," Sarah Lindsay answered in a whisper, as if afraid that her voice would be over amplified in the space.

"Are you sure, because--"

"I am sure," she replied, gaining more confidence. "Because this is my portrait."

Isabelle was visibly impressed. "This is amazing, especially since it's not a wizard's picture. It seems alive."

"Thank you. I won a photography contest with it, and then I auctioned it off for charity. I didn't expect to see it here." Sarah Lindsay's face was the color of her robes.

"I bought it," came a deep, quiet voice from the doorway. "I hope that you don't mind."

Both girls turned around, somewhat startled. An extremely tall man hovered in the doorway with an embarrassed smile. He towered over his son, and certainly over petite Sarah Lindsay, but not in an intimidating way. Isabelle liked him immediately, and could tell that he was as nervous as his daughter was. Sarah Lindsay shook her head no.

"No, sir. Um, Dad," she choked out. Mr. Parker's eyes lit up at the last word, which made Isabelle positively melt into a puddle of mush on the floor.

What a sweet man, she thought. How could Sarah Lindsay think him capable of being a monster? I've been around some monsters, and her dad's about as far from the description as humanly conceivable. So far, at least. Isabelle seriously considered using her Discerner skills to make certain, but refrained herself.

"It's nice to see you, Sarah Lindsay," Mr. Parker beamed, turning to Isabelle and extending his hand. "You must be the one Brittany speaks so highly of. It's nice to finally meet you, Isabelle."

"Thank you, Mr. Parker," she replied, shaking the outstretched hand.

"Michael's fine. Hungry? I ordered the best take-out around," he said, heading towards the kitchen. Jake snorted loudly.

"Thank heaven. We're awful cooks. God-awful. We save the home cooking for the second visit. Gotta make a good impression, you know," he said in a mock whisper to his sister, but looking at Isabelle the whole time.

"Don't be giving away all the family secrets," Mr. Parker said good-naturedly, pulling out several small containers of Chinese take-out and spreading them across the butcher-block kitchen island. He conjured up Chinet paper plates and plastic utensils. "Classy, huh?"

Isabelle giggled. "When I was a girl, we'd always eat at the formal dining room table with paper plates and plastic utensils. My sister called it an indoor picnic, and said it was much better than eating outside because there weren't any ants."

Everyone cracked up at her enthusiastic British accent, which suddenly developed a strong Irish tint to it. Puzzled, Sarah Lindsay loaded up her plate and followed her family to the outdoor patio to enjoy the late fall warmth. Since when did Isabelle have a sister?

Throughout dinner, Jake barely took his eyes off Isabelle. He kept reminding himself that this dinner was about convincing his sister that he and his father cared about her. But every time he looked across the table, he quickly became distracted. More than once, he forced himself from openly staring at Isabelle, and his mind searched for the small pieces of information he gleaned from Brittany.

"Jake?"

He looked up and nearly choked on his orange chicken. It took him a full ten seconds to compose himself sufficiently and meet Isabelle's inquisitive eyes. "Yes?"

"You've graduated school, haven't you?" she asked, wondering how old he really was. He nodded, and ate another mouthful of beef and broccoli before continuing.

"Yes, ma'am, I graduated from Spotswood last year. But, Thomas and I didn't have a clue about what we wanted to do with our lives, so we took the Phillip slacker route and went to Muggle college." He didn't notice Isabelle gulp nervously at the mention of Phillip's name, nor his sister's dreamy sigh when he spoke of Thomas.

"What's your major?" Isabelle desperately wanted to keep the conversation on point.

"Right now, I'm majoring in psychology and minoring in government. But, I might change it to a double major. Depends on how this semester goes. I've been told that college freshmen almost always change their majors by the end of first year, so I'll see."

Jake's deep, soulful eyes made Isabelle's heart flutter a little. Even without reading his thoughts, she knew that there was much more to this man than he let on. She found herself wanting to know what that was, and becoming angry that she had such a weakness for men.

"So, um, what about Thomas?" Sarah Lindsay asked casually. Isabelle rolled her eyes.

"He's 'undecided'." A lazy smile crossed his face. "I think he's going to major in whatever's the easiest stuff for him to pass. And provide the best naptime. I don't think he stayed awake much during class in high school."

The conversation continued around Isabelle, whose mind began to wander into directions that she didn't want for it to go. Yet, she couldn't control the waves of memories, voices, or faces that assaulted her. Her mind tried to regain possession of her consciousness, but slowly failed. The scene before her softly faded until she was standing in the kitchen of the Dover estate, facing an incredibly irate Sirius.

_"__Never speak to me that way again," he said in a dangerously quiet tone of voice. She took a step closer to him and looked him straight in the eye. _

_"__Don't tell me what to do. You're not my father," she spat. _

She fought to focus her eyes, and took a nervous swig of iced tea. A year of living in America had given her a taste for the beverage. Sarah Lindsay looked at her, concerned, but Isabelle managed a smile. A minute later, everything blurred again, this time landing her in the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts.

_So, how's your love life?" Bill teased. _

_"__So-so. It would be great if Sirius--" _

_"__Not that again," he groaned, interrupting her. _

_"__Yes, that again. But, this time, I have a plan," she said earnestly. _

_"__I know I'm going to regret asking, but what's your plan?" _

_"__I call it the Little Women plan. Have you read the book?" _

_"__Er, I'm a guy. Would I read a chick book?" _

_"__Good point. Anyway, it's about these four sisters, Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy. There's a boy who lives next door who falls desperately in love with Jo, but she doesn't think of him that way. So, she turns him down and he runs off to Europe to lick his wounds. Meanwhile, a few years go by and Amy runs into the guy in Europe." _

_"__Does this have a point?" _

_"__Yes," Isabelle huffed. "When the guy, left, Amy was just a little kid. But, when he saw her again, she was all grown up, and he fell madly in love with her. They got married and everything. So, that's my plan. After I graduate from Hogwarts, I'm going to travel the world for a few years with a ballet company. Then, I'll come home and Sirius is bound realize that I'm an adult." _

_"__Yeah, yeah, then he'll fall desperately in love with you and you'll get married. And, have a couple of kids, of course." _

Isabelle stood up abruptly, knocking her chair to the patio with a metallic clang. "Excuse me for a minute, please."

She practically ran to the bathroom off the front hallway, and splashed her face with water. After composing herself, she walked back outside. But, as soon as she sad down again, the voices returned.

_"__Take care of yourself, Isabelle," Lily said, trying not to burst into tears. "I'm sorry I'm going to miss your birthday." _

_"__No biggie," she lied, pasting a carefree smile on her face before giving her sister a quick hug goodbye. She turned to James, hugging him and Harry at the same time. "Playing Atari won't be the same without you." _

_"__Yeah, don't let Sirius have all the high scores," James joked. _

"I won't," she whispered, smiling at her beloved brother-in-law.

"Pardon?" Sarah Lindsay's voice jarred her back to reality, and Isabelle looked at her friend, unable to conceal her disorientation.

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking out loud," she said quickly, rubbing her temples with her fingertips.

_"__I need to go away for a little while, ok?" Sirius told his daughter. _

_"__Work?" the toddler inquired. _

_He smiled sadly. "Yeah, work. So, be good for Isabelle while I'm gone." _

_"__No," she screamed. Her baby face scrunched up in concentration as she searched for the right word to say. "Bad." _

_"__Well, if you're bad, you'll get in trouble then," he said patiently. _

_Grace's eyes suddenly lit up. "Trap." _

_"__Yes, there's a mouse trap in the corner. I promise that none will hurt you, though. Remember that I charmed the crib so that nothing will bother you?" _

_"__Trap," she repeated louder. _

_"__Princess, I'm sorry, but I don't have time to play this game." He kissed the top of her forehead. "I love you, and I'll be back before you know it." _

_"__Bye." Her lower lip trembled as Sirius gave her to Isabelle. _

Isabelle clutched her head in her hands, now uncaring if her company thought she was crazy. She felt absolutely insane, and wanted the voices to stop taunting her. But, they didn't.

_"__Adoption papers," she sniffled, staring at Sirius' bold signature at the bottom of the scroll. "Oh, Gracie. He's got it all wrong. Yes, I want to be a part of his family, but not as a daughter." _

_"__Mummy," she exclaimed brightly. _

_"__That's right." Isabelle sighed. "I'm in love with your father. And, nothing would make me happier than to be your mummy. Too bad he doesn't see things that way." _

_The baby scrunched up her face again. "Will too." _

"Stop it," she begged, in a quiet, throaty voice. "Go away and leave me be."

"What'd you say, Isabelle?" Jake looked at her oddly, causing her to turn on her natural charm so that she didn't appear but so nutters. She laughed.

"Sorry, I was swatting at a fly. I grew up as an only child, since my siblings are so much older than I am. So, I sort of got in the habit of talking to things like animals."

Sarah Lindsay's eyes lit up. "I do the exact same thing! I talk to my cat Marmalade like he can actually understand English. I'm glad I'm not the only one."

"Nah, you're crazy as a three-dollar bill. You are related to me, after all," Jake joked, much like James used to do with Regina. Isabelle's heart literally began to ache. She missed her brother-in-law so much.

_"__Where was the other attack?" She closed her eyes tightly. Professor Dumbledore put his hand over hers. _

_"__Your sister Lily's house." He heard her sharp gasp, and paused for a second before continuing. "Lord Voldemort found the location of the Potters' house, and killed Lily and James." _

Tears stung Isabelle's eyes, and she felt nauseated. "Mr. Parker, is it all right if I walk the grounds for a few minutes? I love water, so I wanted to get a closer look before sunset. Besides, I'm sure the three of you have plenty of catching up to do."

"Sure." He smiled kindly. Isabelle briefly scanned his thoughts.

Well, he's no faker, she admitted. Sarah Lindsay must've been born under an "amazing father" star. Lucky. Oh, well. At least mine isn't bothering anyone anymore. Her eyes narrowed and she smiled evilly.

"Thank you," Isabelle said, standing up. "I'll be back shortly."


	9. Chapter 8: The Race is On

**Chapter 8: The Race is On**

She crossed the large stone patio and walked down a short flight of stairs, onto a beautifully manicured lawn. The backyard gently sloped down to the James River, so Isabelle took off her sandals and padded barefoot to the water's edge. She spied a shot pier with a bass boat tethered to the side posts about thirty feet away. Having never seen such a boat up close, she curiously approached the pier and ran a cautious hand over the sleek watercraft.

Making a mental note to ask Jake to take her for a ride before the weather turned cold, she sat at the end of the pier and drew her legs to her chest. Isabelle truly loved the water; it always calmed her. She idly watched the wind whip through the trees. A storm was brewing, and by the rumbling in the background, it would be a big one.

Sirius loves storms, she recalled with a wry grin. He used to sit at the edge of the cliffs and watch the waves crash in. And, damn, he looked so good all soaking wet that it should be illegal. No man, especially one I can't have, should be that sexy.

_"__And Sirius?" _

_"__The Ministry of Magic took him into custody about an hour ago. They're questioning him now." _

_Isabelle's head whipped around. "Questioning him? For what?" _

_"__For betraying the Potters to Lord Voldemort," Professor Dumbledore said quietly. _

_"__Betraying?" she repeated. "He wasn't the Secret-Keeper, I swear. It was Peter Pettigrew. I was there when they performed the charm." _

_"__Unfortunately, Peter won't be able to confirm or deny your story." He told her about how Sirius attacked and murdered Peter in broad daylight, killing several Muggles in the process. _

_"__Professor Dumbledore, Sirius may be a bit of a loose cannon, but he would never hurt innocent people. He's being set up by Peter to take the fall for my family's deaths," she said emphatically. _

_"__Hmm," he mused. "Your story is identical to Sirius'. Very interesting." _

_"__It's not interesting. It's the truth!" she said loudly. _

"It is the truth," Isabelle repeated, laying her head on her knees.

A solitary tear dropped on her knee, as she thought about how Sirius was faring in prison. Fat raindrops began to fall from the stormy sky, which matched her dark, turbulent mood. She didn't lift her head, instead allowing the rain to drench her hair and run down her back. Within five minutes, she was completely soaked and no longer felt the chill of the rain.

"Isabelle?" a male voice called over the raging storm. She turned her head, stared at the dark-haired man in front of her, completely confused.

"A Sirius?" she whispered in awe, standing up.

A bolt of lightning struck the river, illuminating her sodden frame. The bright halo made Isabelle appear ethereal, otherworldly, at least to a dumbstruck Jake Parker. He'd never seen anything so exotically beautiful in his life. Clumps of soaking wet hair clung to her face, neck, and upper body. And her dripping, thin robes left little, if anything, to the imagination.

"Are you all right?" he asked, wondering what sort of crazy woman stood on a pier set on the river's edge during a thunderstorm. Isabelle smiled seductively, walked up to him, and wrapped her cool, wet arms around his neck.

"You came for me," she said, switching from Gaelic to English. She tenderly brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

"Uh, yeah. I was a little worried about you, alone here in--"

Isabelle silenced him with a soft, lingering kiss, and lightly ran her fingertips across the back of his neck. She smiled against his lips as he pulled her to him so tightly that a lock of her hair whipped around her shoulders and stuck to his cheek.

"Isn't this a little sudden?" he stuttered as she kissed his neck and collarbone. She laughed – a short, dry laugh.

"Oh, no," she whispered into his ear. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this."

Jake raised an eyebrow. At most, she'd known of him since early September, only two short months. Not that he was complaining, but something seemed a little off. "Isa--"

"Shhh," she insisted. "No one needs to know about this."

Isabelle boldly grasped him by his robes collar and pulled him down on the pier. Neither of them noticed the whipping wind, or the nearly deafening thunder. In the semi-darkness, she could clearly make out the look of desire on her companion's face.

"Is this all right?" he hesitated.

"Why do you worry so much about being good? What's wrong with being bad every now and again?" she questioned.

That is a good point, Jake admitted. What would be the benefit of being good right now? Since when do I have a conscience? Since she's my sister's friend, idiot. I've spent my whole damn life trying to get to know my sister, and I'm about to risk losing it all by hooking up with Isabelle? What kind of moron am I? The kind who's being seduced, that's who. Forget being good.

"Absolutely nothing," he replied, kissing her hard and fast, leaving her breathless.

A horrid realization washed over her as she snapped out of her delusional dream world. This man was not Sirius Black. She wanted to cry, scream and crawl into a corner to die all at once. Sirius was still in prison. She, Isabelle, was still in exile, and betraying Sarah Lindsay by using her new best friend's older brother as a Sirius substitute. Jake didn't deserve to be treated this way. But, how could she possibly explain this to him or Sarah Lindsay?

Especially since she knows that I've been with Phillip, Isabelle panicked. She'll never forgive me for this. I don't deserve to be forgiven.

Acting on her flight reflex, she stood up and ran down the pier. However, her bare feet slipped on the wet planks, losing her balance. Her head struck the edge of a side post before she had time to extend an arm to break her fall. Right as everything went black, she vaguely heard and felt her body fall into the river.

-----

Isabelle hesitantly cracked open one eye, and was instantly assaulted by the sterile white brightness of a hospital room. She wrinkled her nose, groaned, and closed her eye again. A blinding headache made her want to go back to sleep again, although she did wonder where she was, and exactly what happened to her.

"H-hello?" she rasped, hoping that she wasn't alone in the room.

"Isabelle?"

She smiled, and briefly opened both eyes to let Severus know she was all right. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself. You gave us quite a scare you know," he said sternly, masking his relief.

"I'm sorry. What happened?" She reached up and touched the back of her head, which was wrapped in a thick bandage.

"You took a nasty fall and fell into the river. It's a good thing Jake Parker was there, or you would've drowned." Severus scowled at her recklessness. "He saved your life by jumping into the river after you and dragging you careless arse to the shore. Better be glad that he spent years as a lifeguard. Why were you on a pier during a thunderstorm, anyway?"

"I like storms," she huffed.

"Apparently you're on a death wish, young lady. And what were you doing alone with Jake Parker?"

"Do we really have to talk about this? I just woke up, and my head aches awfully badly, and besides--"

"Isabelle Rose," he said warningly. "I've spent the last two days worrying about you, and I think I'm entitled to some answers. Did Jake, I mean, was he, um, trying to hurt you?"

"No!" The force of her answer made her ears start ringing. "It's my fault that I fell, I promise. He came out there because I was taking a walk around the grounds. They sort of reminded me of home, and it was a bad day, so I wanted some alone time. I sat on the pier to think, and then the storm came. End of story. I swear. Have I really been out for two days?"

"Yes. You've had a lot of company. The young Mr. Parker and his father have made several stops by, as has Sarah Lindsay, Brittany, and the entire cheerleading squad. Stacey's lurking around here somewhere getting drinks for she and I. Just don't do this again," Severus commanded.

"Do what?" she croaked.

"This. Hurting yourself. I hate hospitals." He said the last part quietly, almost in a whisper. Isabelle extended her arm, placed her hand on top of Severus', and squeezed his fingers. "I know. I really am sorry."

-----

"Ergh. My head's swimming," Isabelle complained to an unsympathetic Severus, who rolled his eyes and placed several steaming mugs on her bedside table. "What are those?"

"Poisons," he replied sardonically.

"Why are you so mean to me?" she asked in a childish, whiny voice, batting her eyelashes dramatically.

"I'm not even going to humor that with a response. Drink up."

Severus crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. The doctors allowed her to come home two days after waking up, but she wasn't regaining her strength like she should be. Which both worried and puzzled him. Isabelle was young and otherwise healthy, so she should be completely healed by now, especially with the large doses of healing medicines he kept pumping into her system. He heard a knock at the door.

"Sounds like you have another visitor." He smiled in spite of himself. The room full of flowers, cards and various get-well presents were quite a testament to how well Isabelle was adjusting to life in America.

"Maybe it's your girlfriend," she teased, knowing how calling Stacey that plucked his everlasting nerve. Sure enough, his smile instantly vanished and he stormed out of the room in a huff.

Isabelle lost herself in a magazine, and didn't see an uncharacteristically timid Jake hovering in her bedroom doorway. His eyes swept the small, but tidy room. The walls were painted a cheerful colonial blue, which made him smile because painting the rooms any color but white was against the complex's rules. But, he had to admit that the room was much nicer looking her way.

The dark, oak furniture looked well worn, but not shabby. A massive desk took up an entire corner of the room, buried by various textbooks, notebooks, pens, quills and parchment. The double bed was nestled beside the desk, covered with a duvet of small, multicolored wildflowers on an ivory background. On the other side of the bed was a knee-high nightstand. Across from the bed, against the wall, was a dresser with a cork message board nailed above it.

He briefly studied the eclectic mix of items tacked to the message board – to-do lists, a school events calendar, a six-inch button reading "Kiss Me, I'm Irish", and various pictures. What immediately struck Jake about the pictures is that none of them appeared more than a couple of years old. His eyes traveled back to the dresser top, cluttered by a vast assortment of health and beauty products.

Posters of various locations hung on the walls. A massive portrait of the New York City skyline at night loomed over the desk. On the other side of the room was a framed picture of the white cliffs of Dover. The two pictures contrasted so strongly that they almost seemed at war with each other. Underneath the portrait of Dover was a smaller picture of a large villa in Barcelona, Spain. At least, that's what the caption read.

All in all, it was the most unusual bedroom that Jake had ever seen. But, he thought that it suited its owner well. He gazed at a peacefully reading Isabelle, and briefly entertained the idea of leaving her in peace. However, before he could retreat back to his own apartment, she looked up, and paralyzed him with her eerie, piercing stare.

Isabelle tried to speak, but her voice failed her. All week, she had dreaded this moment, facing Jake after what happened Sunday night. Her cheeks flushed, turning a deep rose, and her eyes darted back to her magazine for a brief second before facing him again.

Better to get this over with, she told herself sternly.

"Hi, Jake," she said, impressed by how calm she sounded. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. How are you feeling?" he asked anxiously, genuinely concerned.

"I've been better. But all in all, not so bad. Why don't you come in?"

Isabelle nodded towards a corner of the bed. Hesitantly, Jake crossed the room and sat stiffly. Before continuing the conversation, she reached underneath her pillow, pulled out her wand, and closed the door firmly.

"Jake," she began, taking a deep breath, "about last Sunday--"

"I am so sorry," he interrupted in a rush.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry," she said in anguish, turning away from him and curling into a little ball. "I've ruined everything, especially any chance of friendship I had with you and everyone else."

Jake stood up, and walked around the bed. He sat on the desk chair so that he could look at her face. "Isabelle, you didn't ruin anything."

"You don't understand," she protested, pulling the duvet to her chin.

"Please help me to understand, then. I know I've given you no reason to trust me, but if you go out on a limb, I swear that I won't let you down. At least, I'll try my best not to."

She sighed heavily and sat up. "Whenever I get upset about something, I have a nasty habit of drowning my sorrows with any random, good-looking guy I can find for a good snog. Or worse. I'm sorry, but I used you terribly."

"I see." That wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear, but at least she didn't seem angry with him. Which was something, at least.

"No, you don't." Isabelle began fidgeting with the edge of the duvet cover. "I don't know how to say this, but maybe it's best if we don't speak to each other anymore."

His face whitened. "Wh-what? If I did anything to hurt you in any way, I'm incredibly sorry."

"Jake," she sighed, turning her head briefly to the poster of the white cliffs, "you need to build a relationship with your sister. Family's more important than everything, especially some girl you barely know. I'll only get in the way, trust me. When Sarah Lindsay finds out about last Sunday, she'll never look at you the same. And it'll be my fault, pure and simple. I can't live with that."

"But we just made out a little. Come on, we're young. Aren't we supposed to do crazy stuff?" He grinned crookedly, which made Isabelle's heart literally ache because his smile looked so much like Sirius'.

Why does everything begin and end with Sirius? she wondered. Jake is so much like Sirius that there's no way I can ever have a healthy relationship with him. I'll always be tempted to use him as a substitute. But, how can I explain that, especially when a huge part of my mind is screaming, "Snog the boy! He's hot, and obviously willing."

"It's complicated," Isabelle said slowly, gathering her thoughts together. "Jake, who's your best mate?"

He looked puzzled at the seemingly unrelated question. "Thomas Spence. I've known him since before I can remember. I'm good buddies with his older brother, too. Come to think of it, they're both probably my best friends. You've only met Brittany, right? The whole family's great. I can't introduce you if you like. We only live three apartments down."

"I know." She hung her head in shame.

"Oh. Did Sarah Lindsay tell you that?" he asked, unconcerned.

"No. I, uh, was at your apartment's party before the school year started," she admitted in a tiny voice. "And I met Phillip there."

"So?" Jake shrugged, still missing the point.

"He and I had a one night stand," she whispered, hiding her eyes with her hands. "I was really scared about starting a new school, and had a little too much to drink. The next thing I knew…"

"You and Phillip…" Jake's voice trailed off in disbelief. His mind couldn't process the information, so he stared blankly off into space with a dumbfounded expression.

"And I haven't been able to face him since then. I didn't know that Brittany was his sister when we met at school until we were already friends. She's such a sweet girl, and I didn't want her to think any less of me. So, she doesn't know. But Sarah Lindsay does."

"Phillip seduced you," he said flatly, still trying to make his brain compute what his ears heard. Isabelle shook her head as fervently as she could without becoming dizzy.

"No. At first I thought that's what happened. But I took this potion a couple of weeks ago to help me remember, for closure, you know. And I was definitely insistent on having my way with him. He was very respectful, and considerate. That is, until his horrid girlfriend showed up the next morning. What kind of man cheats on his girlfriend with a stranger?"

"Girlfriend? Phillip doesn't have a girlfriend." Ok, Parker, that was about the dumbest thing you've ever said. Isabelle looked at him curiously.

"But Nikki said--"

"That girl doesn't know the definition of 'over'. In my opinion, he should've never messed with her. Nikki's a monster in high heels with fabulous legs. But not too much between the ears, which is why when my man went to college, she got the boot. Thank God." Jake rolled his eyes and gestured heavenward.

"Oh." Isabelle didn't know what else to say. And from the way he looked downward and fidgeted slightly, neither did Jake.

"Well, um, this explains a lot," he said after a few minutes.

"Oh?" she said again, wanting to crawl into a corner and die of embarrassment.

"Yeah. Like why you never want to come over our place with Sarah Lindsay. Or why you won't go to Brit's place. I don't blame you, but still. Explains a lot."

"I can't face him after what happened," Isabelle whispered. "I wouldn't know what to say. Especially when he and everyone else finds out that I snogged you. I'm not ashamed of you, Jake. But I don't know what to do except not talk to any of you anymore. I don't want any trouble."

"You can't do that," he exclaimed. She sighed heavily and flung herself back on her pillows.

"I don't have a choice, now do I?"

Jake closed his eyes briefly, not believing what he was about to say. "Yeah, you do. Isabelle, I haven't known you for very long, but I do know that you're a great person. I've been trying to get to know my sister since I was a little kid and my mom split. But she wouldn't give me the time of day until you came around. I'll always be indebted to you for that. So, what do you say that we just keep our little er, interlude between the two of us?"

"What do you mean?" She narrowed her eyes.

"I mean, so we made out once. Big deal, right?" It was a big deal to me, he answered internally. "Does that mean we can't be friends?"

Isabelle laughed at his goofy expression, already feeling much better. "You'd want to be mates with a silly high school cheerleader?"

"Well, you're not so bad. For a foreigner and all," he joked back. "Hey, what are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing." She rolled her eyes.

"All right, then. Why don't you come drag racing with me and Sarah Lindsay?" he asked. Isabelle's brow furrowed curiously.

"Drag racing?"

Jake laughed, and shook his head in mock sympathy. "You poor uneducated thing. Most every Saturday night, all the wizarding folk in town with halfway decent vehicles race. We block off this part of Route 5; it's a two-mile straightaway. Anyway, I wanted to introduce my sister to all my old school buddies. It'd be fun if you could join us. Hell, you could even bring that nice, shiny Corvette of yours and see how it stacks up against a real car."

"My 'Vette is a real car," she huffed. "And, that sounds like fun. I don't think Sev would let me race, being an invalid and all. But, I'll cheer you on. Just give me a few minutes to get ready?"

"Can do. I'll meet you in the parking in ten?" he grinned.

"It's a date."

I wish, Jake thought.

-----

Completely exasperated, Brittany beat on Phillip's door impatiently. "Open the door! I know you're in here. You can't hide in your room forever."

"Go away," came the reply.

"I'm coming in," she warned, busting down the door. "Good Lord, Phillip. You look awful. And still attached to your blanket, I see."

"Leave me and my blanket alone, Brit. I'm not in a mood."

She cheerfully flopped down on the bed. "And I'm sick of your two month long pity party. All you do is go to school, soccer practice, games and back here again. You have no life."

"So what?" He buried his head underneath the blanket.

"So, I miss my brother," Brittany said earnestly. "I miss spending time with you. You used to be really fun, and I know you're upset. The whole one-year anniversary of the Potter murders and all. But, it's time to move on. Please? I need my biggest brother."

Phillip knew that she had a point – a very good point. "Sorry I haven't been there for you, switching schools and all."

"Just be there for me now. Starting tonight. The drag race's on, and everyone knows your car's the fastest in this part of Virginia. Come on, it'll be fun," she pleaded, knowing he couldn't resist a good race.

"All right, little sister."

"Fabulous," Brittany pronounced, pulling him to his feet and dragging him to the bathroom. She rummaged around underneath the sink for a minute. "First off, you need to start looking human again. Phillip Spence, meet razor."

"What's wrong with facial hair?" he frowned, examining his inch-long beard. His sister wrinkled her nose.

"You're blonde. Blonde and beard just doesn't go. Not on you, anyway. You're too pretty to muck up your face with peach fuzz." Brittany snickered at his instant look of righteous indignation.

"Pretty? Peach fuzz? Get out of here while I still have some self-esteem," he said, pretending to be hurt.

Brittany laughed all the way down the hall and into the living room, where she placed a quick telephone call to their mom to let her know that her little plan to force Phillip to be social worked. Then, she kicked back and waited for him to become presentable.

When he remerged, his baby sister nearly beamed. Of her two brothers, Thomas was the one she always fought with and pulled pranks on. She hero-worshipped Phillip, and was so proud of everything he did, whether it was soccer, or school, or anything else for that matter. Phillip looked fantastic for a change, if she said so herself. Gone was his uniform of soccer shorts and a ratty, grass-stained t-shirt.

And good riddance, Brittany thought as they hurried to the parking lot and removed the T-tops from the Trans Am to take advantage of the late fall warmth. By the time they drove through town and reached the blocked off straightaway, Phillip actually looked like he was in a good mood. He loved to race, mostly because he always won.

The wizarding teenagers who had graduated were busy casting charms on either side of Route 5 so that anyone approaching the road would think that the county police had blocked off the road. A tall redhead waved them through the fake roadblocks, and they quickly parked to see who was there and what cars were racing.

Across the road, Isabelle closely followed Jake, completely awed. She'd never seen anything like this in her entire life. There must've been a hundred people or more milling around, chatting, dancing, revving their cars up, and generally throwing a huge party. He stopped every few feet to introduce her and Sarah Lindsay to various people. Her head swam with all the names, but she did her best to be social.

"What's that?" she asked Jake in a quiet voice, pointing to the strangest vehicle that she'd ever laid her eyes on. He laughed at her puzzled frown.

"It's an El Camino, better known as a cruck," he explained. "It's exactly like a car, but has a truck bed. Want a closer look? I know the guy who owns it."

"Sure," Isabelle said, studying the cruck amusedly as they drew closer to the hybrid vehicle.

The owner, who went by Bootie, was more than happy to explain the particulars of the El Camino – how fast it went, why a cruck's useful, and how he beats Jake's Shelby half of the time. Isabelle wondered why any self-respecting man would answer to the name Bootie, but then again, most of the people around here had bizarre nicknames.

Jake hopped in the back of the cruck to get a better view of the scene, partially to see if Phillip was around. After talking to Isabelle, he really wasn't in a mood to see his best friend. He extended a hand to her, and she scrambled up to survey everything. One of the first things she saw was Sarah Lindsay deep in conversation with Thomas Spence. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, knowing how much her friend was smitten with the boy. Bootie turned on the radio, and Isabelle couldn't help it. She had to dance to the music. So, she began dancing with a more than willing Jake.

A loud catcall caused both Phillip and Brittany to look in the El Camino's direction. Their faces blanched and the siblings adopted identical heartbroken expressions. Phillip couldn't believe it. There was Isabelle, dancing with _Jake?_ He turned to his sister, who hadn't taken her eyes off the couple for a second.

"Brit, who's with Jake?" he asked in a tight voice.

"My new best friend, Isabelle," she answered in an equally forced tone. "Phillip, is, uh, is she the girl that you--"

"Yeah. I'm getting out of here," he fumed, kicking the ground furiously.

"I'm with you," Brittany added quickly. Seeing Jake so happy hurt her deeply. Why can't he look at me the way he looks at Isabelle? she wondered hopelessly, following Phillip back to the car. The night hadn't exactly turned out as planned, she thought despondently.

Phillip didn't say a word on the walk to the car. He didn't know who he was angrier at – Isabelle for running out on him without an explanation, Brittany for failing to mention the fact that she had a new best friend who perfectly fit the profile of Isabelle Evans, or Jake for hooking up with "his" girl. All in all, he was beyond livid.

"Brit, I love you, but you're not my favorite person right now. So maybe you'd better stay quiet on the drive home," he warned. The fifteen-year-old paled and looked so miserable that Phillip instantly felt awful. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. You didn't know."

"Know what?" she squeaked. He clutched the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"That the girl with Jake is the one who I've been trying to find for months. Brit, I thought that I'd never see her again, and to see her like that – it hurt. Has she ever said anything about me?" he asked, trying not to look hopeful. Brittany shook her head no.

"But, it would explain why Isabelle doesn't want to come to the house. She acts like she's never met you," she puzzled, masking her own wounded pride. Phillip's face fell into the sweetest, saddest expression that Brittany had ever seen.

"Well, I probably haven't, other than, you know. Do you mind telling me about her, seeing as she's your best friend and all?" He hated lying to his sister, but everyone thought he was practically insane as it was. Better to gather some more information before speaking up about what he knew.

"She's a transfer student, like me," Brittany began, biting her lip. "We're both juniors, but she's seventeen because she dropped out of school last year and decided to go back. And, she's really, really smart, too. She goes to Jamestown all day, then cheerleading practice after school, and after that, she studies magic stuff all night. Oh, and she goes to dance class three times a week and on Saturdays."

Ok, Phillip thought, mentally summarizing. Seventeen, witch, dancer? So far, so good.

"If I remember right, Isabelle has a funny accent. Not quite Yankee – sounded kind of foreign," he said conversationally, cleverly hiding his agenda. "It is foreign. She and her brother are from England."

Brother? What brother? Phillip wondered. "Where in England?"

"I've never asked," Brittany admitted. "But, she has a poster of the white cliffs of Dover on her wall."

A smile slowly spread across his face. "So, where to? Want to go home, or back to the apartment with me?"

"Home, I reckon. I have such an exciting social life, let me tell you." She rolled her eyes.


	10. Chapter 8: Unedited Storm Scene

**Author's Note:** Like the other unedited scene, I'd rate this a PG-15 at the most. This is probably my favorite of my unedited scenes to date...

* * *

**Chapter 8: Unedited Storm Scene**

"It is the truth," Isabelle repeated, laying her head on her knees.

A solitary tear dropped on her knee, as she thought about how Sirius was faring in prison. Fat raindrops began to fall from the stormy sky, which matched her dark, turbulent mood. She didn't lift her head, instead allowing the rain to drench her hair and run down her back. Within five minutes, she was completely soaked and no longer felt the chill of the rain.

"Isabelle?" a male voice called over the raging storm. She turned her head, stared at the dark-haired man in front of her, completely confused.

"A Sirius?" she whispered in awe, standing up.

A bolt of lightning struck the river, illuminating her sodden frame. The bright halo made Isabelle appear ethereal, otherworldly, at least to a dumbstruck Jake Parker. He'd never seen anything so exotically beautiful in his life. Clumps of soaking wet hair clung to her face, neck, and upper body. And her dripping, thin robes left little, if anything, to the imagination.

"Are you all right?" he asked, wondering what sort of crazy woman stood on a pier set on the river's edge during a thunderstorm. Isabelle smiled seductively, walked up to him, and wrapped her cool, wet arms around his neck.

"You came for me," she said, switching from Gaelic to English. She tenderly brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

"Uh, yeah. I was a little worried about you, alone here in--"

Isabelle silenced him with a soft, lingering kiss, and lightly ran her fingertips across the back of his neck. She smiled against his lips as he pulled her to him so tightly that a lock of her hair whipped around her shoulders and stuck to his cheek.

"Isn't this a little sudden?" he stuttered as she kissed his neck and collarbone. She laughed – a short, dry laugh.

"Oh, no," she whispered into his ear. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this."

Jake raised an eyebrow. At most, she'd known of him since early September, only two short months. Not that he was complaining, but something seemed a little off. "Isa--"

"Shhh," she insisted. "No one needs to know about this."

Isabelle boldly grasped him by his robes collar and pulled him down on the pier. Neither of them noticed the whipping wind, or the nearly deafening thunder. In the semi-darkness, she could clearly make out the look of desire on her companion's face. This was her deepest, most private fantasy, to make steamy, sensual love in the middle of a storm. In her fragile mental state, she truly believed that Sirius Black had come for her, and wanted to be with her.

Consequently, she sat astride on Jake's lap, and wound her long, shapely legs around his back. Dazed, he simply gawked at her thighs, completely bare all the way to her hips. Despite the little warning bells going off in his mind, he placed a hesitant hand on her hip, and traced her leg with his fingers. "Is this all right?" he hesitated.

"Why do you worry so much about being good? What's wrong with being bad every now and again?" she questioned.

That is a good point, Jake admitted. What would be the benefit of being good right now? Since when do I have a conscience? Since she's my sister's friend, idiot. I've spent my whole damn life trying to get to know my sister, and I'm about to risk losing it all by hooking up with Isabelle? What kind of moron am I? The kind who's being seduced, that's who. Forget being good.

"Absolutely nothing," he replied, kissing her hard and fast, leaving her breathless.

His hands traveled up her side and briefly rested at the front of her robes before unfastening her outer robes and practically ripping them off in an effort to remove them as quickly as humanly possible. The rain made Isabelle's gauzy, sea green camisole transparent long ago, and it clung to her like a second skin. She smiled at his obvious pleasure.

"Is this as bad as you get?" she challenged.

"Hell, no," he retorted, jumping slightly as a particularly loud crack of thunder sounded through the air.

"'Fraidy cat," she teased. "Here, let me relax you."

Consumed by intense, tumultuous emotions, Isabelle slid back a little and leisurely removed his outer cloak for maximum effect. In fact, she took so much time in carefully undoing the buttons and slowly sliding off his robes that it nearly drove him insane. Jake' sheer carnal passion overrode patience, so he shrugged out of his cloak and threw off his shirt in record time.

Isabelle gently caressed his naked flesh with her lips, which caused him to grasp the back of her head reflexively. His chest heaved up and down, and she could feel his hot breath on her neck. When she stretched out her hand to touch his left side, something unexpected happened. She only felt smooth skin.

A horrid realization washed over her as she snapped out of her delusional dream world. This man was not Sirius Black. When Sirius was fifteen, he and James were pulling a prank that went horribly wrong. He never would give details about exactly what happened, but somehow he fell and tore a huge, ragged gash in his left side. No matter what Madame Pomfrey did, the massive cut healed badly and left a jagged scar.

She wanted to cry, scream and crawl into a corner to die all at once. Sirius was still in prison. She, Isabelle, was still in exile, and betraying Sarah Lindsay by using her new best friend's older brother as a Sirius substitute. Jake didn't deserve to be treated this way. But, how could she possibly explain this to him or Sarah Lindsay?

Especially since she knows that I've been with Phillip, Isabelle panicked. She'll never forgive me for this. I don't deserve to be forgiven. Bill's right; I am a whore, aren't I?

Acting on her flight reflex, she stood up and ran down the pier. However, her bare feet slipped on the wet planks, losing her balance. Her head struck the edge of a side post before she had time to extend an arm to break her fall. Right as everything went black, she vaguely heard and felt her body fall into the river.


	11. Chapter 9: An Unexpected Vision

**Chapter 9: An Unexpected Vision**

On the drive to his parents' house, and then back to the apartment complex, Phillip's mind worked overtime. When Jake walked through the door around one o'clock in the morning, he was waiting for him on the sofa, irate from hours of picturing his friend with Isabelle. For his part, Jake wasn't especially interested in conversation, and unsuccessfully tried to disappear down the hallway.

"Oh, yeah, go ahead and hide. I saw you tonight, and I know full well who you were with, you little chicken shit," Phillip seethed. Jake stopped dead in his tracks, clenched his fists and turned around, wild-eyed.

"You're one to talk, taking advantage of a drunk woman," he accused from the living room doorway. "Funny, she blames herself for the whole thing. But, if you actually knew Isabelle, you'd know that's the kind of girl she is."

Phillip jumped up, and punched his best friend squarely in the jaw, knocking him to the floor. "Don't judge me, especially since you don't know her. Not the way I do."

"How do you know?" Jake asked snidely, clutching the side of his face, watching Phillip's anger boil over. Within a second, the two men were throwing punches at each other with a savage fury.

"I swear, that if you've touched her, I'll--"

"You'll what?" Jake challenged, dying to throw his little rendezvous with Isabelle on Halloween in his face. The only thing keeping him from doing so was his promise to keep that particular incident quiet. "What's she to you, other than a piece of tail?"

Phillip shoved him so hard that Jake's upper body caved in part of the wall. "Do you even know who she is? Huh?"

"Enlighten me, oh great one," Jake spat, extracting himself from the jagged drywall. His friend's fists fell to his side, and his shoulders slumped slightly.

"Isabelle Evans."

"That girl is not Isabelle Evans!" he roared, charging Phillip and punching him in the gut. "You're insane."

"Am I? Am I?" he screamed back, knocking Jake to the ground again. "Tell you what. You're the spy; prove me wrong. You prove me wrong, and I'll admit I'm crazy and check into Eastern State voluntarily."

Jake appeared to consider his challenge. Despite his anger, he truly was concerned for his best friend, and perhaps a stay at the local mental hospital would do him some good. "Fine. Give me until Christmas Day. I'll have solid proof that she's not Isabelle Evans. But only on the condition that you stay away from her until then."

"What, so you can hook up with her? I don't think so," Phillip snapped. Jake dropped his own fists and looked him in the eye.

"Isabelle and I are just friends. But, I'm not going to have you hurt her by accusing her of being someone she isn't. That's not healthy for anyone. Come on, I've known you since I was three. Letting a chick mess up our friendship is trifling. Even if she is hot."

"Extremely hot." Phillip couldn't help a small smirk. "Speaking of hot, do you know who Thomas is with right now?"

"Probably some random girl he picked up at the drag race." He looked unconcerned.

"With the name Sarah Lindsay Parker." His smirk grew at the horrified look on Jake's face.

"What!?!?!" he bellowed, clenching his fists again. "I'll kill him. Just wait until he gets home. I'll kill him. Want to help, seeing as how we're in the fighting mood tonight?"

"Absolutely." Phillip grinned.

-----

True to his word, Phillip reluctantly stayed away from Isabelle. But, he did bug Brittany with so many questions that the teenager avoided her oldest brother like the plague. Brittany didn't know who was worse – Thomas about Sarah Lindsay, or Phillip about Isabelle. Between the two, she wanted to lock herself in her room for the next few years with a stack of nice books and ignore the world.

November slowly passed. When Mr. Parker discovered that Severus didn't have a job, and also that he spent his evenings tutoring Isabelle, Mr. Parker hired the wizard to tutor his daughter, as well. So, Sarah Lindsay practically moved in with Severus and Isabelle.

Although her relationship with her father was improving, if she lived with him, she couldn't go to school at Jamestown High anymore. But, life with her mother and her various boyfriends was pretty unbearable, so, she spent most nights studying with Isabelle and slept on the sofa. After two weeks, all of Sarah Lindsay's belongings were so intermingled with Isabelle's that the two girls couldn't tell their things apart. Both girls enjoyed the arrangement so much that Severus didn't say a word against it.

When Thomas discovered that "his" girl lived down the hall, he and Jake began visiting nightly around dinner. And, Brittany used any excuse to see Jake, so she began studying over Isabelle's apartment, too. All in all, it was a very festive place to be.

The only problem was that Isabelle wasn't recovering from her concussion like she should be. She got massive migraines daily, and sometimes saw large black spots at odd times. The time she spent unconscious left her so weak that she stopped going to dance lessons and sat on the sidelines at cheerleading practice.

Severus became so concerned that he prepared an incredibly strong strengthening potion around the end of November, and fervently hoped that it would work. He'd used it before with Regina, and it always seemed to help her. So, he crossed his fingers as Isabelle downed the lemon yellow goo. Shortly afterwards, she headed to bed.

_Isabelle woke up in a strange room that she'd never seen before. The enormous room seemed to be underground, because there were no windows, and the air smelled slightly damp, like a wine cellar. The walls and ceiling were slate grey, and made of roughly hewn stone. The only light in the room came from a massive fireplace, which illuminated a massive snake carved on the mantel. Tall, high-backed chairs surrounded the fireplace, and various tables were scattered throughout the room. _

_Where am I? Isabelle wondered, walking around. _

_The snake reminded her vaguely of the one on the crest of the Slytherin house at Hogwarts. She now cursed herself for never venturing into the other house's dorms, although Bill and Charlie sometimes did. _

_A young girl's bitter cries from a corner of the room reached her ears, and concerned, Isabelle walked towards the corner. Light footsteps from the opposite end of the room caused the girl to stifle her cries, but the footsteps grew closer until an older teenager of about Isabelle's age stood over the girl. He stepped into the firelight, and knelt to the girl's level. _

_"__Go away," the girl sobbed. "This is the worst day of my entire life." _

_Instead of leaving, the teenage boy smiled indulgently, sat down, and stretched out his legs. Isabelle blinked rapidly – this man was beyond attractive. He looked like a funny cross of Phillip, with loose blonde curls and blue eyes, and Jake, with his build and smile. But, his mannerisms reminded her of someone else entirely. Intrigued, she leaned closer. _

_Who is he? she puzzled. _

_"__I'm sure it's not as bad as all that," he drawled in a hybrid Southern/Scottish accent that was really cute. At least, Isabelle thought so, being a sucker for a good accent herself. "Now why is today the worst day of your life?" _

_The girl scooted further into the shadow, so that Isabelle couldn't see her whatsoever. "Be-because I got sorted into Slytherin, that's why! My life is over – I'll be disowned." _

_The teenager's smile broadened, and he put his hands behind his head. Just like Sirius does when he's settling in for a long talk, Isabelle noted. How odd is that? Incredibly bizarre, she answered to herself. _

_"__What's wrong with being a Slytherin?" he asked lightly, trying to cheer the girl up. _

_"__Everything," she bawled. "Papa will be so disappointed, and Mom will cry. And everyone else--" _

_"__Will be incredibly proud of you, just like your parents will be," he finished, reaching into the shadow to give her a hug. _

_Papa? She says it exactly like Gracie does, Isabelle thought in amazement. The French way, not the funny American pronunciation that sounds like "paw-paw". Is this my Gracie – a Slytherin? And if so, is "Papa" Sirius, or does she call her foster father Papa as well? Does this mean that Sirius is freed? The mere idea caused Isabelle's face to light up with joy. _

_But, her face fell just as quickly. For any of this to be real, she would have to be in the middle of a true vision. And, Mummy P told her repeatedly throughout her childhood that she'd probably never have a true vision, because her Discerner skills would get in the way. So, she wondered if this was a vision or a dream? Either way, she leaned closer to hear every word of the conversation. _

_"__I'm scared to be at school," the girl exclaimed, dissolving into incoherent mutterings that Isabelle couldn't understand. "What if I don't like it there? What if I'm lonely? Everyone I know is a Gryffindor." _

_"__Holy stars!" Isabelle clasped both hands over her mouth. The pair looked and sounded like a blast from the past; this was a near verbatim repeat of the conversation she had with Sirius the night before she went to Hogwarts for the first time. _

_"__You know me, and I'm a Slytherin," he pointed out. The girl only bawled louder. _

_"__The only reason you'd even give me the time of day is because Papa would ask you to. You're the best Quiddich player and the most popular boy in the whole school. And you're a Prefect, and most people say that you're going to be Head Boy next year." _

_"__I'd guess so," the teenager snorted. "I'm older than half the seventh years, so I reckon I should be pretty good at my studies. And, I'd spend time with you just because you're fun to be around, not because your parents asked me to." _

_"__Really?" the girl asked hopefully, her tears stopping for the first time. _

_"__Of course I will. I can't let my best girl be lonely, now can I? Besides, we Slytherins have to stick together," the young man said seriously. "Can't let those boring Gryffindor prats get the best of us, now can we?" _

_"__Oh, Stephen, you always know how to make me feel better," she said happily, throwing herself at him and hugging him tightly. _

_Isabelle smiled, the scene reminding her of herself and Sirius when she was younger. No matter how awful she felt, Sirius always knew the right thing to say, too. She wondered who this Stephen was, and who the girl was, for that matter. If this is Gracie, how did she know a wizard growing up? Did Severus place her with Muggles who knew wizards for her to play with? _

_"__Stephen?" the girl asked hesitantly, with her head still buried in his chest. _

_"__What?" _

_"__Why do you bother with me, anyway? When you have Abbie, and all of your other mates." _

_"__Well," he began, his eyes suddenly far away, "when you were little, you reminded me of my sister. Horrid pain, but very pretty and smart. That's probably why she was a git; everybody loved her." _

_"__You think I'm pretty?" she interrupted, in a small voice. _

_Isabelle laughed out loud; the girl reminded her a little too much of herself. For the first time since Halloween, she tried to read their minds, with no luck. Apparently being a Discerner didn't extend to dreams or visions, whichever this was. _

_"__Course I think you're pretty. And the Slytherin robes will match your eyes, so you'll be the prettiest girl in the entire school. Just you wait. Then, I'll be forced to beat up any guy who looks at you," Stephen said, with an edge to his tone that reminded Isabelle of James. _

_"__Why would you want to do that? I'm going to grow up sometime; I'm not a little girl, you know," she protested vehemently. _

_"__Don't be in too big of a hurry to grow up," he replied. A stricken look crossed his face, as he sadly stared at the roaring flames. "Hey, are you in the mood for an ice cream sundae? Might make you feel better…" _

_The girl sat up and put her hands on her hips indignantly. "Didn't I just tell you that I'm not a little girl? I'm not easily placated with sundaes or treats, like when I was younger." _

_"__Spitfire," he said approvingly, throwing up his hands in surrender. "Trust me, I wasn't trying to 'placate' you; I'm hungry. Didn't you wonder why I'm out of my dorm after hours?" _

_"__I thought maybe you were snogging some girl," she said quietly, but mischievously. The teenager laughed and shook his head amusedly. _

_"__That's beside the point. So, are you interested or not?" he asked again. _

_"__No, I'm in training, remember? If I'm going to win a gold metal in a few years--" _

_Stephen sighed. "All right, all right. I get the point. Always fencing with you. Do you do anything else other than fence your life away?" _

_"__What's the use of having dreams that you know will never come true?" she bitterly spat with a vengeance that made Isabelle's eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. _

_Such a young girl to be so bitter, she thought, wondering what on earth could make an eleven-year-old so jaded – and so wise. Isabelle herself had spent the better part of her lifetime wanting dreams that she couldn't have. If this is Gracie, and Isabelle knew this child had Black blood in her for sure, then she fervently hoped this Stephen wouldn't be a heartbreaker like Sirius was. That this girl wouldn't be as foolish as herself. _

_"__Like what?" the teenager inquired. "What could you possibly want that you can't have?" _

_The girl turned to face the fire, still mostly in shadow, and said so quietly that Isabelle could barely hear her, "You." _

_"__Oh, Gracie! No! Don't do this," Isabelle begged, dropping to her knees. _

Freaked out, Sarah Lindsay ran into Isabelle's bedroom, flipped on the light, and rushed to her bed, where the teenager was frantically tossing and turning. She tried to hold Isabelle's hand and wake her up gently, but she sat up in the middle of the bed and began screaming bloody murder.

"No!" Isabelle screeched at the top of her lungs. "Gracie, you're better than I am! You're better than all of us. Don't do this! Gracie, no! He's not worth throwing your life or your future away!"

Who's Gracie? Sarah Lindsay puzzled. And who is "he", for that matter? She calmly put an arm around her friend and guided Isabelle back to a reclining position on her pillows while she waked up.

"What's going on?" Severus said anxiously, hovering in the doorway, as was his custom.

"I don't know," Sarah Lindsay answered. "I was asleep, and all of a sudden I heard Isabelle screaming. Something about a Gracie being better than her. Do you know what she's talking about?"

"Sort of," he answered honestly, crossing the room and shaking Isabelle to make sure that she was fully awake.

The two's eyes met, and an unspoken understanding passed between them to discuss this later when they were alone. Severus had a partial idea of what could've happened. Often, when Regina took that particular medication, she would have a vision. But, he attributed it to being the daughter of the most famous Seer of their day; he thought that not being from Seer ancestry, Isabelle could take the strengthening potion safely.

Apparently not, he thought, wanting to kick himself for taking such a risk. He knew the potion was dangerous, but hoped the benefits would outweigh the potential damage. Now, he had a traumatized, confused teenager on his hands, who still seemed as weak as before. Good job, Snape, he cursed himself.

"Can I get you something?" Sarah Lindsay asked, rubbing her hands together concernedly. "Maybe some hot tea?"

"Irish Breakfast would be lovely," Isabelle replied gratefully, rubbing her eyes exhaustedly. Happy to have something to do, Sarah Lindsay jumped up and ran towards the kitchen; she loved being helpful, especially when someone was sick or hurting for any reason.

"So," Severus said guiltily, "had a vision, huh?"

Isabelle's eyes flew open, and focused on him in amazement. "How'd you know? You mean that was a _real_ vision?"

He shrugged, staring at his hands. "I don't know. Reg – an old friend who used to take the same potion – used to have authentic visions. But, I'm not sure about what you saw. What _did_ you See, anyway?"

"Gracie was eleven, and she was Sorted into Slytherin."

"Black's kid, a Slytherin?" Severus chortled, nearly doubling over with laughter. "That's priceless. Imagine how much that would piss him off. Pity he won't know about it."

Isabelle's temper flared. No one insulted Sirius, even someone with good reason, like Severus. "You don't know that! Sirius could be freed by then; you never know. And for your information, his deadbeat father was a Slytherin, the same year as Voldie even. So, Gracie would come by it honestly."

"Still funny. Wonder what her mother would say to that?" he said without realizing that Isabelle knew his little secret. She smiled, trying to formulate a perfect answer. But, before she could say anything, Sarah Lindsay returned with a steaming mug of tea.

"I hope it's all right. I'm not used to making hot tea," she apologized. Isabelle took a small sip.

"It's fabulous," she said, much to the other girl's relief.

"Are you ok? Please tell me you're well enough to come to Thanksgiving dinner," Sarah Lindsay begged.

Groaning, Isabelle pulled the duvet cover over her head. She'd completely forgotten that Americans celebrate Thanksgiving today, a silly holiday in her opinion. For years, Jake and his father had eaten dinner with the Spence family. This year, Sarah Lindsay was to join them and twisted Isabelle's arm until she agreed to tag along with Severus.

Isabelle faked a really convincing cough. "I think I'm," cough, "coming down with," cough, "something."

"Yeah, right. Come on, please come with me?" Sarah Lindsay pleaded. "I've never been to a real, family sit-down Thanksgiving dinner before, and I'm really nervous. I don't even know what to wear."

"Thomas would be happy with a burlap sack. Don't worry about it," she replied from underneath the duvet.

"Is this about Phillip?"

"Oh, yeah. He's a Spence, isn't he?" she said innocently. Sarah Lindsay pried the cover away from Isabelle's face, as Severus tried not to laugh. He'd never seen such a tenacious teenager.

That girl has pluck, he thought approvingly, glad that Isabelle had a good group of mates.

"Uh-huh. You can't avoid him forever," Sarah Lindsay pointed out. "You know he asks about you."

Isabelle sat straight up, flabbergasted. "He does? What does he say?"

"Nothing bad," she said mysteriously, walking out of the bedroom.

Severus decided that the Sorting Hat would surely Sort Sarah Lindsay Parker as a Slytherin. Curious, Isabelle jumped up and bounded after her friend, catching up with her as she began folding up the hideaway bed in the living room.

"What does Phillip say about me?" she asked anxiously.

"That you're--" she paused dramatically.

"Yes?" She wrung her hands nervously.

Sarah Lindsay furrowed her brow. "Darn it, I forgot."

"You prat!" Isabelle smacked her with a pillow. "You bloody prat! See if I come with you this afternoon."

With that, she turned on her heel, marched back to her bedroom, and slammed the door. Severus and Sarah Lindsay both laughed; Isabelle could be such a drama queen sometimes.

-----

At exactly two o'clock in the afternoon, Isabelle found herself standing on the Spences' front stoop, with Sarah Lindsay on one side and Severus on the other to prevent her from bolting. Both tightened their grip on her arms when Phillip answered the door. His eyes met Isabelle's, and he stood there for a minute without saying anything. Brittany came to the door, reached past her brother, and opened the screen door to let the guests in.

"Hey!" she said excitedly. "Come on in. You can just toss your coats on the back of the sofa. Phillip, you've already met Sarah Lindsay, and this is Isabelle."

She knew that her friend was trying to smooth things over, but Isabelle couldn't deny the truth. "We've met. This is my brother Severus, who is just dropping me off. He has a hot date."

Severus couldn't believe she said that. "Well, with that, I'll say hello to your parents, Brittany, and be on my way."

"Right this way," Brittany said, leading Severus to the kitchen, with Sarah Lindsay in tow, leaving Isabelle and Phillip staring at each other wearily in the living room.

Not really knowing what to say, Isabelle chose to take her time to slowly remove her cloak, painstakingly place it on the armchair, and absorb her surroundings. The Spence home was a large rancher, sprawled over one and a half stories. The front door opened into a semi-formal, spotless living room which didn't look as if it was used much. The furniture showed surprisingly little wear, considering that two teenage boys grew up there.

She thought the house cozy, having herself lived her entire life until recently in one of the largest estates in all of Great Britain. However, Phillip took her silence as a criticism of his family's socioeconomic status. While his father was well respected in the community, the Spence family was far from wealthy, especially in comparison to what Isabelle was used to. He felt self-conscious, an unusual emotion for him.

"Uh, Isabelle," he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, "about the party at the beginning of the year."

"Don't. It was my fault, and we both know it," she interrupted him, unable to meet his eyes. She saw him shake his head no through her peripheral vision, which made her feel a little better, although she didn't really know why.

"No, I think we're equally to blame. And I'm really sorry about the way things turned out; trust me, I never expected for my psycho ex-girlfriend to show up. I did try to find you..." his voice trailed off.

"I know. I didn't exactly want to be found," she admitted, grinding her toe into the linoleum square in front of the door. Phillip cast a furtive glance in the direction of the back of the house, and lowered his voice.

"Look, I respect that you don't want anything to do with me. But, if you ever feel differently about it – that is, I'd like to get to know you better. Even as a friend. I really care about you, Isabelle. No matter what, please don't not come around because of me." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "You're really important to my sister. I'd do anything for Brittany. If the only way you can be friends with her is for me to stay away, just say the word and I'll never bother you again. Is, uh, is that what you want?"

Isabelle's eyes clouded over. Honestly, she had no idea what she really, truly wanted. The one thing she did know is that there's really no way to avoid Phillip Spence, and that he's not the demon that she mentally made him out to be. So, she considered her options very carefully before replying with the single word, "No."

He fought a grin, and felt about twenty pounds lighter. "So, what do you want?"

"I don't know," she sighed, rubbing her eyes with weary fingers. "Everything happened so fast with us, and I'm not the type of girl who does that sort of thing. I mean, I barely know you, and we...anyway, I think I should take some more time off from dating."

"More time?" he asked before stopping himself. She nodded.

"I'm not exactly a saint, and I was moving a little – ok, a lot – fast for someone my age a couple of years ago. My sister talked me into slowing down, taking time to figure myself out. And by the time I was ready to try dating again, some bad stuff happened, so I wasn't in any shape for a relationship, then you happened, and--"

Phillip boldly put his hands on her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes. "Hey, I understand. I meant what I said earlier about wanting to be friends, nothing more. Well, that's a lie, but I'll live with nothing more. No pressure, I swear."

"You swear on what?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I swear on my Trans Am that I'll only ask you out once a week, and maybe flirt with you every other minute instead of constantly. Love potions only a few times a month, possibly subliminal messages every now and then. Hey!" he protested, as she playfully shoved him.

"You insufferable prat," she huffed. "I was serious, and you're swearing on a car."

Now it was Phillip's turn to be injured. "It's not just a car, thank you very much. It's a limited edition 1977 Pontiac Trans Am, not that I expect you to know the difference between a Trans Am and a Buick."

Isabelle casually raised an eyebrow. "You're probably right. I am just a girl, after all. But, considering that the engine put in the 1977 Trans Am is quite similar to the one General Motors designed for the Buick, forgive my confusion."

"No, forgive me." His eyes were crystalline blue saucers. "I assumed, you being foreign and all, that you wouldn't know anything about our way of life. And, you know, the girl thing."

"Never assume with me, Mr. Spence. Since we're 'just friends' and everything, here's a little Isabelle trivia. I love foreign cars, especially anything by GM, although I confess a certain fondness to the Corvette. I can't stand domestics, especially Aston Martins. Another thing I can't stand is a man who thinks that girls are mechanically challenged, because I am not."

With that, she breezed by him and tossed her hair triumphantly. However, her victory was short lived because she had no idea where to go to find her friends. Isabelle turned back around slowly, and rather enjoyed the stunned look on Phillip's face. He was partially in awe of her knowledge of cars, and partially amused that she called American vehicles "foreign".

"So, where'd everyone disappear to?" she asked evenly, trying not to notice how cute he was, in a preppy soccer boy sort of way.

"This way, my lady."

He affected a deep bow, before leading her into a small dining room off the right side of the living room. The table was festively set, with a beautiful centerpiece of deep brown taper candles surrounded by a ring of bright harvest leaves. They walked around the table and through an open door at the back of the room, which led into a bright, sunny kitchen.

Isabelle did a double take. Sarah Lindsay was standing on her head in the middle of the floor with Thomas hovering nearby with a stopwatch. Oblivious to the oddity of the situation, or perhaps immune, Brittany was reading a book at the kitchen table, pausing every few seconds to turn a page.

"I'm surrounded by crazy people," Phillip muttered, crossing the room.

He charmed the oven light on, and peered inside to check the turkey. Distracted by Sarah Lindsay's gymnastics, it took a minute for Isabelle to realize that _he_ was cooking. Intrigued, she intently watched him, unknowing that everyone else was staring at Isabelle watching Phillip cook because they knew the pair's history. Or part of it, anyway. For his part, Phillip showboated when he could, desperately trying to impress Isabelle.

"Um, how do you know how to cook?" Isabelle asked hesitatingly.

"Yeah, Phillip, how'd you learn to cook?" Thomas repeated snidely, leaning on the kitchen counter. Phillip turned around and gave his younger brother a dirty look.

"Well, _Isabelle,_" he emphasized the last word, "like my other siblings, I went to Spotswood my whole life. That is, until ninth grade and I decided to transfer to Jamestown because I could play soccer there."

"Why do you play football instead of Quidditch?" Isabelle interrupted him with a puzzled frown. _All_ wizarding children played Quidditch. It was like a rule, or something.

Phillip was thrilled with the attention she was paying him, and was all too eager to answer. So far, today was turning out even better than he planned. "I used to play when I was a kid, but then I got a really bad injury when I was about five or so. Anyway, Mom wouldn't let me fly after that; said I was too reckless. So, she signed me up for Muggle soccer instead, I loved it, and the rest is history."

"You should see him play," Sarah Lindsay said, her face completely red from being in a handstand for so long. "He was All-State all four years of high school. We used to call him poetry in motion."

"I'm not as good as all that," Phillip drawled embarrassingly.

"Who's we?" Thomas grumped, put out that his new girlfriend used to drool over his brother. The petite blonde gave him a reassuring stare from the floor before answering.

"The cheerleading squad. Can we help it if Spence men are irresistible? You are quite a fine looking pair, although I think that one over there's a bit too much of a brooder for my taste. I dunno...some girls do find that mysterious brooding thing sexy..." She winked at Isabelle, who childishly stuck out her tongue in response. "As for me, I like to have fun."

"I'm fun," Phillip protested, his face falling into his classic wounded pout while Thomas grinned from ear to ear. Never before had any girl preferred him to his older brother.

"Sure you are," Brittany called out in a patronizing tone of voice.

"He is fun," Isabelle defended him, remembering the Christmas party in London during her fifth year at Hogwarts. Too late, she realized that the other people assumed she meant their rendevous earlier in the fall. So, she quickly changed the subject. "You never did say how you learned to cook."


	12. Chapter 10: Revealed

**Chapter 10: Revealed**

"He lost a bet," Thomas said, smirking down at Sarah Lindsay. "Just like you will, my dear."

"Why are you standing on your head, anyway?" Isabelle wanted to know, joining Brittany at the kitchen table.

"Because Thomas said that I couldn't stand on my head for thirty minutes, and I'm proving him wrong. How much longer do I have to go?" Sarah Lindsay asked, trying not to fall.

"It was a half hour five minutes ago," Thomas replied with a smirk.

"No! You little snot! How can I lose a bet that I've already won, anyway?"

She righted herself with a thump. Knowing he was in deep trouble, Thomas quickly ducked out of the back door with Sarah Lindsay tearing outside after him. Her irate voice could be clearly heard in the kitchen, which made the others laugh. Individually, Sarah Lindsay and Thomas were funny; but together, they were plain goofy. Nothing was ever dull with them around.

"What bet?" Isabelle choked out in between laughs. Phillip rolled his eyes.

"The summer before junior year, the other captain of the soccer team had this piece of crap Chevelle that he said would beat my TA. The loser had to take Home Ec all year. I swear to this day that he poured something into my fuel line to make my car mess up," he seethed, smacking a pot onto the stove top with a thunderous bang.

"Phillip's a sore loser," Brittany whispered across the table.

"I heard that," he grumbled. "I'm not a sore loser when it's a fair competition. Well, maybe a little. Who likes to lose?"

"No one," Isabelle said soothingly, wondering why she felt the need to comfort him. "Apparently you had a much better time in Home Ec than I did, so I think you got the better deal, anyway. What woman doesn't think a man who can cook is just the sexiest thing?"

"You think this is sexy?" Phillip tried to keep his voice even, and his ears from turning pink as he chopped potatoes.

Brittany fought the urge to beat her head against the table repeatedly. Seeing Isabelle and Phillip cautiously flirt with each other was painful to watch. Although, it was better than Isabelle with Jake. She sat for a minute thinking about the past month, and how her perpetual crush simply doted on her best friend. Her eyes narrowed as she silently vowed to help her big brother win Isabelle's heart.

"Soccer season's over soon, right?" Brittany asked innocently from behind her book.

"Yeah, why?" Phillip answered, puzzled at the question.

"Never mind," she said in a falsely contrite tone. "I forgot that you're a big, bad college boy and all."

He looked over from the stove. "Not too busy for you, Brit. What's up?"

"It's not for me. It's a mission of mercy for my Home Ec challenged friend over here. See, Isabelle has to do extra credit work to keep up her A in the class. But, if _someone_ taught her to cook..."

"Brittany!" Isabelle exclaimed, totally embarrassed. "I'm not going to inconvenience..."

"It's no inconvenience," Phillip eagerly interrupted her, making a mental note to get his sister a particularly good Christmas present. "Really, Muggle cooking isn't so bad once you get the basics down. You'd learn in no time." "Sure," Isabelle's tone dripped with sarcasm.

"Fine, reject my offer. I see how it is," he said in a convincingly hurt voice. Brittany internally smiled, knowing her friend would cave at Phillip's crestfallen face.

"Well, maybe after Christmas..." Isabelle offered diplomatically, giving herself a nice, big cushion of time to think of a good excuse. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Where are Sarah Lindsay and Thomas?"

"Probably making out in the garage, as usual," Brittany replied without looking up from her book.

"What about Jake?" she inquired curiously, wishing he was around to rescue her from awkward conversation with Phillip.

"He and his dad always get here at exactly four o'clock."

"Oh. Your parents?"

"Talking to Bubba in the family room. Mom's banned from the kitchen when Phillip cooks because he says that she's too bossy and makes him burn stuff," Brittany explained, casting him a sidelong glance.

"Mom's a control freak, and you know it," he protested, still dicing potatoes. "Look, y'all are the ones who want me to make dinner, so don't hate on the cook."

"Um, I think I'm going to introduce myself to your parents," Isabelle said, wanting to put some distance between herself and Phillip Spence.

The longer she spent in his presence, the more she liked him. And, having already crashed and burned with him once, she didn't want to jeopardize her friendship with Brittany by having another unpleasant incident with her oldest brother. So, she excused herself to the family room.

-----

_Meggie's Author's Note: All right, so far I've managed to stay fairly impartial. But, Mom's gotten personal. I can't believe she blabbed my private life to Stephen's dad! I feel so...violated...you know, I was beginning to feel guilty about spying around in Mom's stuff. Not anymore! Turnabout is fair play, Mother dearest. Please forgive the my childish responses mixed into the regular story. I just have to vent a little, and then I'll return to my normal objectivity. Humph. _

-----

Trying to hide her shaking knees, Isabelle walked into the family room where Severus was politely chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Spence. She swallowed back her nervousness and sat beside her guardian on an overstuffed tan and green sofa. The family room was decorated in a country style, nearly filled to the brim with knick-knacks and homemade details such as colorful afghans on the furniture and crocheted doilies on the end tables. Severus turned to her with questioning eyes, wondering how her conversation with Phillip had turned out. She smiled reassuringly before taking a deep breath to introduce herself.

"Thank you for inviting me to share Thanksgiving Day dinner with you, Mr. and Mrs. Spence," she said politely, standing up and extending her hand.

Instead of a handshake, Mrs. Spence engulfed the teenager in a warm, motherly hug. Taken aback, Isabelle's eyes filled with tears. Not since Mummy P died had she felt motherly affection, and she hadn't realized how much she craved a mother figure in her life. Her emotions in a tailspin, she distractedly shook Mr. Spence's hand, noting how much Thomas resembled his father.

"Are you sure that you can't join us, Bubba?" Mrs. Spence asked in a warm, friendly tone. Severus shook his head no, trying to hide his frown at her use of his nickname.

Apparently it was around to stay, he thought ruefully. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I promised a friend that I'd keep her company at her father's dinner. In fact, I really need to head out, or I'll be late."

Isabelle snickered, picturing Stacey's temper tantrum if he was in fact late. Stacey absolutely deplored going to her father's house, so she was automatically on edge. If Severus did anything to set her off...well, it wouldn't be pretty. Snickering as she walked him to the door, Isabelle asked him to give her regards to Stacey and her family and heavily sighed as he Apparated to New York City to pick Stacey up before heading to Abilene. She was on her own.

Luckily for her, shortly afterwards, the doorbell rang, followed by Jake and his father Apparating in the front entryway with a loud pop. Both Isabelle and Brittany jumped up from the kitchen table and rushed towards the living room. Before Brittany could think of anything clever to say, Isabelle raced through the room and engulfed Jake in a huge hug.

"Wow, you really know how to make a guy feel welcome," he joked lightly. She tightened her grip, as Mr. Parker shook his head amusedly and excused himself to go talk to Mr. and Mrs. Spence.

"I am so glad that you're here," she whispered. "You're early."

"Figured that you might need some moral support because of, you know." He tried not to notice the evil stare Phillip was shooting him from across the room.

"You have no idea."

Jake stepped back, brow knitted. "Something else bugging you?"

"It's nothing." She turned her gaze to the picture window.

"Right. Come on, let's go talk."

Assuming that Phillip was behind her upset mood, Jake decided to irritate him by wrapping his arm around Isabelle's shoulders and leading her through the front door. With a small smirk, Jake closed the door and followed her to a comfortable swing at the end of the porch. Isabelle listlessly sat swinging back and forth, eyes downcast.

"Do you want me to go beat up Phillip? Because if he's giving you a hard time..." Jake broke the silence. Isabelle snorted.

"What is it with you men that you believe everything can be solved by throwing a few punches?" Her voice became old and weary sounding. "No, it's not Phillip."

"Then what's up?"

Isabelle began nervously wringing her hands. "It's hard to explain. I had this precognitive dream, and I don't know what to make of it."

"Well, what was it about?" Jake asked helpfully.

_Too helpfully for my taste. Back off my mom, buddy. By the way, here's where Mom starts blabbing my private life, almost twenty-five odd years before the incident actually happens. _

"It was the future, and I think it was at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts? The school in Great Britain? But, I thought you went to Beauxbatons," he puzzled.

_Thought wrong._

Isabelle didn't know how to respond to his statement, so she simply ignored it. "There was a girl, a new student, and she was crying. I think it was my...my niece."

_Try daughter. _

"You have a niece?" Jake wondered.

_Nope. _

"In a manner of speaking," Isabelle carefully hedged her answer. "Gra–, uh, Hermione is my brother-in-law's niece. Complicated family tree."

"Sounds like it." He raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.

_Smooth, Mom. How many children are actually named Hermione? Not to mention that you gave enough of Gracie's name for Stephen's dad to figure out that you could've been talking about Hermione Grace Black. Duh! _

"Anyway, she was upset that she was sorted into Slytherin," Isabelle continued.

_Damn straight. Worst day of my whole life, until Stephen made me feel better about it all. Thanks to him and Uncle Sev, I'm proud to be the Slythie diva that I am now. I even have a Slythie diva-in-training, hee hee hee. _

"What's the big deal about that?" Jake asked, shrugging.

"Well, both of her parents were Gryffindors, and she thought her parents would be ashamed to have a Slytherin as a daughter. There's a huge inter-house rivalry between the two houses," Isabelle explained, seeing his confused expression. "Then, this really sexy blonde guy comforted her. Fabulous accent and everything."

_Hey! Back off my man. I wish he was mine, anyway... _

Jake frowned jealously. "So, what's the big deal about this vision? Doesn't sound that bad to me."

"It was weird!" She shuddered at the memory. "You wouldn't understand unless you've had a vision, I reckon."

"I had a vision once," he drawled slowly, smiling charmingly. "It was in Divination class and we were doing a unit on Seeing our progeny. Absolutely hilarious. Thomas threw a temper tantrum when he saw his future daughter making out with a redhead. I think he broke his crystal ball and threatened to break the guy's face."

"How did he know that his child wasn't the boy?" Isabelle asked sensibly.

"Because if you manage to have a true vision, your progeny will have this weird blue aura. This one girl, Laurie, had something like six kids. Her nickname has been Little Bunny Fu-Fu ever since," he snickered.

"Little Bunny Fu-Fu?"

"Bloody ignorant Brits," Jake teased, not in the mood to explain. "Anyway, it took me a while, but I even managed to see my future granddaughter. I got extra credit for that one."

Isabelle's eyes lit up, and she eagerly sat up. "Details?"

"Well, I didn't recognize the place, but it was a garden with a huge angel statue in the middle of it. There were like a hundred people around, most of them redheads, speaking of. Anyway, it was the weirdest thing because my son supposedly will be blonde. I don't know how that's even remotely possible, considering that my hair's so dark, unless his mother's a blonde."

_Bloody hell! No, he just didn't say that. Jake Parker thinks that my mother is the mother of his blonde son? That is awfully presumptuous, and just plain wrong! Ew, gross. Gross, gross, gross. _

"I don't know. I've seen two black haired parents have a child with light brown hair before. Depends on what surfaces in the gene pool," Isabelle replied cluelessly, her mind still on her vision and Gracie. "So, what happened next?"

"Not much. This pretty little girl, also blonde, runs up to him holding an Easter egg. My son then picked her up and makes this big fuss about the egg she decorated."

"What's her name?" Isabelle clapped her hands together excitedly, like she did when she was a child. Visions of the future could be fun sometimes.

"Stevie," Jake replied with a grin.

"Like Stevie Nicks? What a cool name!" she exclaimed.

_Traitor. Mom's turned traitor. Stephen having a namesake is all fine and good. But, why Stevie? Why twist the cool blade of rejection that he stabbed in my heart? I have so many memories of us singing Fleetwood Mac songs in the common room. How cruel can a man be? _

"Isn't it?" Jake said proudly.

"What about your son's name? Or his wife?" Isabelle pressed.

"I didn't catch his name, or his wife's. But, I did see him talking to this hot blonde chick almost the whole time."

"Aw, one big happy blonde family. We do have more fun, you know." She winked and nudged him with her shoulder playfully.

_Ok, so it's _her_ fault. Whoever the tart is that steals Stephen away from me and then gives him the family that he's always wanted. _She's_ responsible for making my life miserable. Stupid bimbo. And here Mom is, happily swinging away, completely ignorant of the fact that my life's effectively over before it even begins! Or that history is doomed to repeat itself, unless I do something about it... _

-----

"Eight ball, corner pocket," Thomas said, calling his pool shot. He skillfully made the shot with a flourish, which greatly impressed Sarah Lindsay, who rewarded him with a kiss. Jake shot his friend a dirty look as he walked into the garage, but surprisingly didn't say anything smart.

"Where's Isabelle?" Phillip asked, taking a swig of his beer. As the only person of legal age, he took great pleasure in drinking front of his siblings, since their parents wouldn't let them touch the alcohol stash in the refrigerator.

"Asleep on the sofa," Jake answered. "We were talking to my dad after dinner, then he left. And the next thing I knew, she was sound asleep on my shoulder. So, I let her sleep."

"Living a lie must be exhausting," Phillip muttered into his bottle, hurt that she preferred his friend's company to himself.

"What do you mean by that?" Brittany inquired sharply, looking at him wide-eyed. "You're not thinking what I'm thinking, are you? Please tell me--"

"What's going on here?" Sarah Lindsay was confused.

"Phillip thinks that your new best friend is the missing Evans girl," Thomas informed her matter-of-factly.

"Thinks, nothing! She _is_ Isabelle Evans," Phillip said defensively.

"Oh, yeah." His brother rolled his eyes, tossing his pool stick from hand to hand. "The missing aunt of the Boy Who Lived is passed out on our parents' sofa. Sure, bro. Keep dreaming."

Jake couldn't believe what he was about to say. "I think Phillip's right."

"What?!?" Thomas exclaimed, throwing up his arms in exasperation. "Don't tell me that you're buying into my crazy brother's conspiracy theories. I mean, please. Why would Isabelle Evans end up in our neck of the woods?"

"There's an old saying that the best way to hide something is in plain view. Williamsburg has the highest concentration of magical people anywhere in America, except for maybe Las Vegas. So, here would be a great place to hide one teenage witch," Phillip said logically, staring his brother down.

"All right, here's another question, lawyer boy. Isn't the drinking age different in Great Britain?" Thomas challenged.

"Yeah, it's eighteen. Had a blast when I was in London. You know, when I first met Isabelle Evans," Phillip replied pointedly. "Actually, it was what kept me sane in Nikki's company; being trashed the majority of the time."

Jake doubled over laughing, picturing the scene. "Nice. Bet the Wicked Witch didn't appreciate that."

"No, she didn't." His eyes twinkled evilly.

"Anyway, isn't it true that not only is the drinking age lower, the age a person becomes an adult is lower, too?" Thomas brought the conversation back on track.

"It's sixteen," Phillip shrugged, missing his point.

"I'm not an expert on the Evans girl, but wasn't she sixteen when she disappeared? As in, a legal adult? Why would she come to America, where a guardian could tell her what to do?" Thomas asked.

"That I can't answer," Phillip admitted. "The best guess I can wager is that she didn't have a choice in the matter somehow. And I don't know how this Severus guy fits into the picture. Still working on that one. But still, everything else fits."

"Like what, lover boy?" Sarah Lindsay's eyes narrowed, mentally siding with Thomas.

"Since when do you know about the laws in Great Britain?" Phillip asked his brother incredulously, holding up his hand to indicate that he did in fact hear Sarah Lindsay's question. But, his curiosity got the best of him.

"I didn't until Jake told me that you messing around with the Evans girl was illegal. Big difference between fifteen and sixteen, apparently. You hooked up with jailbait," Thomas teased.

"We didn't hook up, not that it's your business. But, yeah, I'm glad her family didn't know my age, to tell the truth." Phillip turned to Sarah Lindsay, deciding to stir things up a bit. "Doesn't it bug you that your boyfriend here knows when girls in other countries become legal?"

"Yeah, what's it to you?" Her hands flew to her hips.

"Nothing." Thomas boyishly grinned, which made the petite blonde smile and shake her head. It was far too difficult to be irritated with him for long.

"Anyway, can we please stay on point?" Brittany reminded them, genuinely curious.

"Fine," Phillip said, leaning against the pool table and crossing his arms. "Jake's done more research on Isabelle Evans than I have. Spy Boy's been to England and everything. So, I yield the floor to the expert."

"Ok. Isabelle Rose Evans, born June 28, 1965 in Dover, England to John and Catherine Evans. She has two sisters, Petunia, who lives in Surrey with her husband, son and nephew, and Lily, who is deceased. Isabelle Evans was a ballet dancer, left-handed, loved chocolate covered pretzels and shoes," Jake rattled off.

Brittany decided to put in her two cents' worth. "Sounds like our Isabelle. So, are y'all going to talk to her about it?"

"Oh, that's brilliant. One way or the other, she's going to be traumatized if y'all suddenly start asking her all these personal questions. Why can't you leave well enough alone?" Sarah Lindsay defended her friend.

"Because what if she is who I say she is? Living a double life has to be rough. Isabelle needs someone to talk to, especially around the holidays," Phillip shot back.

"Awww! That's so sweet," Sarah Lindsay gushed, clutching her hands to her heart. "Maybe you are worthy of my girl in there."

"She won't talk to me." Phillip nervously ran a hand through his blonde curls and nodded at Jake. "It's all you, buddy."

"Huh-uh. I love my brother, but he can be really pushy and intimidating. Better to leave Isabelle be. If she wants to talk, she'll talk," Sarah Lindsay suggested.

Outside the room, a petrified Isabelle stood in the hallway listening to the conversation. She silently cursed herself for telling Phillip the truth the night they spent together, and him for remembering it. Although her mind told her to run, her feet wouldn't move. Where would she go, anyway? Severus made it perfectly clear that they were to stay in Williamsburg until she took the N.E.W.T. tests. She managed to crawl back to the sofa in the empty den, and curled into a frightened ball, not knowing what to do, or who to trust.

-----

Barricaded in her room, Isabelle sat at her bed, blankly staring at her poster of the white cliffs. For the past couple of weeks, she had barely talked to any of her friends. Which was no small feat, considering that Sarah Lindsay practically lived with her. Claiming ill health, extra dance practices, and any other excuse that she could dream up, she avoided speaking to them at all costs.

She was scared senseless. Last year, Severus was angry enough that she blew their cover with Stacey. She could only imagine his ire when he found out that she blabbed everything to Phillip Spence, who in turn told others her true identity. Maybe he would decide to move to New York after all, but somehow she doubted it.

And part of her was tired of running. In spite of everything, she rather liked Virginia, although she wouldn't admit it to anyone. The area reminded her of a larger, odd Hogsmeade, especially the wizarding quadrant of Williamsburg. If she could stay under cover, then perhaps she could've learned to fit in, become American. But, she blew it.

"Isabelle? Are you in there?" a voice called through the door.

"I'm busy, Jake," she hollered back.

"I'm coming in, whether you want me to or not." He barged into the room, earning a look of pure venom.

"Go away," she said in a low, quiet tone.

"No." He crossed his arms defiantly. "Not until you tell me what's wrong." Using wandless magic as intimidation, Isabelle slammed the door shut and locked it. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong, considering that you're such a bloody expert on my life?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, jaw dropping.

"Well, Mr. Jake-I-Know-Everything-About-Everyone Parker, why don't you fill me in on more details about my life?" Isabelle snapped irritably.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play cute or innocent with me. How long have you been Phillip's little spy? Since we met? Oh, it's so lovely how you pretended to be thick with me just to find out all my little secrets. So, you know I like chocolate pretzels. Do you know why?"

"Uh, no," he stuttered.

Isabelle's eyes clouded over briefly. "When my mum had the cancer, we used to have indoor picnics on her bed. I was very little then, but I remember eating chocolate pretzels. What about shoes? Why do I have a fondness for interesting shoes?"

Jake actually took a step back; she looked fearsome when angry. "I don't know."

"Ah, but you're supposed to be a smart one! I'm a dancer, and my feet look horrible. So, I like nice shoes because they make my feet prettier. Why do I dance?" Her voice raised to a fevered pitch. "Oh, don't know that one, either? Because it made my family proud. There, now you have plenty to tell Phillip. Leave."

"Where is this coming from?"

Isabelle's eyes hardened. "I overheard your pow-wow in the garage after Thanksgiving dinner. Congratulations, you've found the missing Evans girl. I am she. Happy now?"

"But, how?" Jake tripped over her wastebasket, and landed flat on his back.

"I was born that way. Do you think I'm going to trust you with the particulars of my story? I merely acknowledged what you and Phillip had deduced by ferreting around in my life. Now, please stop spying on me and go back to your own apartment, preferably for the remainder of my life."

Jake scrambled to his feet, and reached for his wand. "Isabelle, you're upset. I can see that."

"You have no idea," she said in a dangerously flat tone, standing up and circling him slowly. With her face mere inches from his, she narrowed her eyes and a small smile turned up the left corner of her mouth. She ran her index finger down his face, shaking her head from side to side slowly. "Oh, Mr. Parker, do you know how it feels to have someone invade your privacy?"

"I don't have anything to hide," he said bravely, not answering the question. Isabelle's face lit up in grin.

"Is that a fact? We all have our little secrets, Mr. Parker. Better lock your door tightly when you go to bed from now on. You never know when I'll be feeling vengeful and decide to smother you with your pillow," she said maliciously, searching his mind for any and everything she could use against him.

His eyes froze in fear. "How'd you know that I have a fear of suffocating in my sleep?"

"I have my ways." Isabelle circled him again, laughing manically. "But that's not your biggest fear, is it? That would be having to watch the people you love die, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. You really are a lot like him; it's remarkable."

"Who's him?" Jake clenched his fists by his side.

"In all of your research, you never noticed the similarities between you and he? That's all right. You've used friendship with me to prove to Phillip that I'm not who I actually am. You remind me of him, which is more comfort that anyone will ever know."

"Sirius Black, right?"

Isabelle's head whipped around, with bright, fiery emerald eyes. "Do not speak of him again, especially here. And certainly not in front of Severus. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." He limply sat down on the edge of her bed, and put his head in his hands. "I'm sorry your sister died. Really, I mean that. Yeah, so I wasn't totally honest, but I'm sorry about that, too. Just answer me one question – how the hell did you know that stuff about me? Are you some sort of mind reader or something?"

"Maybe. What's it to you?" She casually studied her nails. Albeit a little rusty, her Discerner skills let her know that Jake was sincere. But, she wanted to teach him a lesson. "Does Sarah Lindsay know that you used to spy on her when you were kids?"

"Look, if you knew what kind of freaks her mother used to bring home, you'd be worried, too," Jake defended himself.

"Used to bring home? Have you met Clyde?" Isabelle asked, shuddering.

"No, and something tells me that I don't want to. So are you a mind reader or not? I read about people who can do crazy stuff like that. If so, then you should've known who Phillip was and no offense, stayed far away from him. What's the deal?" he pressed.

Isabelle flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Mummy P's warning against telling people about her gifts flashed through her mind, but she figured that he already knew enough about her as it was. "How would you feel if everyone's thoughts invaded your brain constantly? Even if you could focus on one person, or a small group of people, after a while, you feel crazy. Sometimes a mind needs a break. It just so happened that I met up with Phillip on a break. The rest is history."

"I see. Can you read everyone's mind, know exactly what they're thinking at all times?" Jake thought of his crush on her, and a nervous pit settled in his stomach.

"Nah," she said, stretching lazily. "Since I came back to Williamsburg, I've only read your mind, and it was just for about thirty seconds or so. Amazing what I can learn about a person in such a short period of time, huh? But unlike certain snoopy people I know, I prefer to get to know a person the old-fashioned way. By conversation."

"Point taken," he sighed. "Why'd you answer my question honestly, anyway? You're making it pretty clear that you don't trust me worth a flip. How do you know that I won't run to the Ministry in London and expose you? For that matter, why are you even here?"

"Pretty much what Phillip said over Thanksgiving. The whole hiding me in plain view thing and Dumbledore wanting to make sure I'm a fully qualified witch before unleashing me to make my way in the world," Isabelle said flippantly. "As for why I'm in hiding or how Severus fits into the picture, I'm not telling, never going to tell, so don't ask."

"I never could figure who Bubba really is. Believe it or not, Severus is a pretty common name in Europe. Do you even know who he is? What if he's some cold-blooded killer or something?" Jake's face fell into a worried frown.

"What if he is?" she repeated in a deathly quiet whisper. "Don't you think I know his secrets, too? Severus has plenty to hide, but he's still a good man. What do you have to hide?"

"Nothing. I told you that earlier," he said, full of bravado.

"Does Phillip know how jealous you are of him?" she smirked, deliberately changing the subject from Severus.

"What?" he said, a little louder than he intended.

"Phillip has something that you want. What is it?" Isabelle paused as Jake set his jaw firmly and emptied his mind, praying that she wouldn't go snooping. "Oh, you are a smart one. But, I'll crack you, too. It's only a matter of time before I have you all figured out."

"You're being unfair," he protested, backing towards the door.

"No, threatening to expose me is unfair. Do you think I really want to be here? Don't you think I'd rather be somewhere I can dance? Where I'm not living in a glorified dumpster?" she asked, frustrated. "Haven't you seen pictures of where I'm from? What my life used to be like? Adjusting to life here is hard enough without worrying about someone spying on me."

"Ok, answer me this: what would be so horrible about people knowing you're really alive?" Jake wondered.

Isabelle's eyes glassed over. "Sirius would die."

"Why?"

"Because Gracie lives."

"So damn what? Sirius Black betrayed your family. Every intelligence report says so. Why are you defending him? Take your life back, Isabelle," Jake persuaded, as Isabelle stood up and her porcelain complexion flushed blood red.

"I defend him because I--" She turned around to face the window. "I was there. It wasn't Sirius' fault." Isabelle reached underneath the bed and pulled out a large duffel bag. She rushed to her dresser and began haphazardly throwing items in the bag.

"What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm running away. Coming to Williamsburg was a mistake. I told Severus it was a mistake, but he didn't listen to me. Just like Sirius didn't listen to me about Peter. Or how Lily didn't listen to me when I tried to warn her. Well, I'm sick of people bossing me around and making my decisions for me. I'm out of here."

Jake blanched. "But, you can't leave."

"I can, and I am. Goodbye, Mr. Parker. Please tell Sarah Lindsay I'm sorry I had to go. And Brittany, too." Isabelle zipped up her bag, and hoisted it onto her shoulder. She had no clue where to go, but anywhere was preferable to here.

"Isabelle, please calm down," he begged.

"No. No! I'm not calming down. Not for you, or anyone else." An idea slowly formed in her mind as she filled the room with thick, choking fog. She suddenly knew exactly what to do, and where to go.

By the time the room cleared, Isabelle was long gone.


	13. Chapter 11: The Missing Evans Girl

**Chapter 11: The Missing Evans Girl**

As was her custom on Friday evenings, Sarah Lindsay sharply rapped on Isabelle's window. She hated spending any more time with her mother than humanly necessary, and today was no exception. Freaked out by the impending holidays, her mother Linda was far more concerned with how to afford whatever gadget her current boyfriend wanted than anything for her daughter. Not that this was a new thing. Since she could remember, Sarah Lindsay felt more like a burden to her partying, self-obsessed mother.

However, she was not in the mood to listen to her mother's harangue about being poor for the hundredth time that week, so she impatiently knocked on her best friend's window, then let herself inside. Something felt off immediately. No one was home. She didn't expect for Severus to be there; usually he left for New York City on Friday afternoon and returned Sunday evening. But, where was Isabelle?

She padded through the apartment, into the hallway, and knocked on the boys' apartment door. After a minute, a stressed-out Phillip opened the door, grunting some sort of greeting as she walked inside. Books, piles of notes and empty drink cans completely covered the living room floor. She carefully navigated through the room, deciding to stand in the hallway instead.

"Exams next week?" Sarah Lindsay asked, surprised. She hadn't heard a thing about it from Thomas; then again, he probably had no clue when the fall semester exams began.

"Unfortunately," Phillip replied, flipping through a particularly large dog-eared pile of notes. "Between soccer and school, I think William and Mary is trying to kill me. I have a paper due Monday, an exam Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, some soccer thing Thursday night, and then some more crap the next week that I don't want to think about. How are you? If you're looking for my brother, I have no idea where he is or what he's doing. I think my sister's Christmas shopping with Mom."

"I'm looking for neither. Actually, I think Thomas said something earlier about going to the library, but I don't even think he knows where it is. So, he'll be gone for a nice long while," she remembered.

"The library? You're kidding me."

"The world's ending, huh? I don't guess you'd know if Isabelle went shopping with Brit, would you?"

Phillip looked up from his marketing textbook, and thought for a second. "You know you're asking the wrong person if you want to track down Isabelle. Even if she was tagging along with Brit, I wouldn't know about it. Sorry."

"No biggie. Just thought that I'd ask. Her apartment's empty, and I feel bad about staying there when no one's home. Mind if I crash here for a while?" she asked hopefully.

"Nope. As long as you don't try to put me in a better mood. I hate overly cheerful people, especially during exams," he grumped.

Sarah Lindsay raised an eyebrow. "Will do."

-----

Isabelle drew her cloak tighter around her face as she entered the International Floo Station. A nervous twinge settled in her stomach while she waited in the line, which was especially long due to the holiday season. She'd never traveled further than from Dover to London by Floo before, and had no idea what to expect. When she and Severus first came to America, they used Muggle transport on the outside chance that someone would recognize them.

She tightly gripped her small carry-on bag, remembering her earlier conversation with Jake. And why she was running away in the first place. Utterly sick of her whole life, Isabelle wanted to get away, to be on her own.

She was seventeen years old, and ready to make her way in life. So what if she wasn't a fully qualified witch? The wizarding world held painful memories for her, anyway, so spending some time as a Muggle would be therapeutic.

At least that's what she told herself as the line slowly moved forward. Finally, she reached the enormous fireplace, and gingerly sat in a tall, wing-backed chair in the middle of the hearth. The Floo attendant asked for her paperwork in a bored tone of voice, and Isabelle held her breath as he checked everything over.

"Where to, ma'am?" he asked, handing her back her passport. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"London, England," she replied confidently.

The attendant nodded, picked up the appropriate container of Floo powder from the mantle, and sent Isabelle on her way. She disappeared in a loud bang and puff of orange smoke, reappearing in Diagon Alley a minute later. Disoriented, she stumbled into the familiar street and grinned broadly. She was home.

Well, as home as she dared to get. While she knew the way to her family's estate in Dover, she didn't dare to visit. Two months ago, she overheard Professor Dumbledore tell Severus that Petunia was searching for the hidden property. Isabelle assumed that her sister planned to sell the estate to the Muggle government for a hefty profit; her childhood home was a prime piece of real estate and would fetch a hefty sum of money.

But, London felt much more familiar to the teenager than Williamsburg, or anywhere else in America, for that matter. She spent the night hours wandering up and down the streets, ducking into her favorite stores, and generally soaking up the atmosphere. Not until she practically collapsed on a bench from exhaustion did she realize how homesick she truly was.

The clocks in a nearby jewelry store chimed midnight. Set to American time, Isabelle wasn't tired in the slightest, and continued sightseeing until around three or so in the morning. Feeling bold, she checked into the Leaky Cauldron. She assumed that no one would be looking for her. But, part of her wanted someone to care, and to try to find her. So, she didn't go to an extreme effort to hide herself.

-----

Around midnight, Jake found Thomas at a secluded table in Swem Library on campus. Despite his agitation over his argument with Isabelle, the sight of Thomas actually reading threw his lifelong friend for a momentary loop. Jake closed his eyes, deciding that the earth had been thrown off its axis and that the would could very well be ending.

"I didn't know you wore glasses," Jake commented, trying to figure out how to bring up the subject of Isabelle running off.

"Um-hum," he said, not looking up from his textbook. "Got them mid-semester."

"What are you doing?"

"Studying," Thomas replied, sounding exactly like Phillip.

"Since when do you care about school?"

"Since I met a girl that I'm trying to impress. It's the Spence way. Slack off, score absurdly high on standardized tests so we get into a nice, prestigious college, have Mom yell at us for being slackers. Then, we meet a girl who changes everything and we straighten up."

"She means that much to you?" Jake asked incredulously. Thomas never took anything seriously, so this was a complete turnaround. With Phillip, at least he was always disciplined when it came to soccer.

"Yes, Sarah Lindsay means that much to me," Thomas said, looking his friend straight in the eyes. "I never understood my brother until recently. I fell pretty bad for ragging on him for his crush on the Evans girl. Figures that I'd do almost the exact same thing, even the younger girl bit. Anyway, I'm crazy about your sister, and I'm trying to impress her by getting my life together. Got a problem with that?"

"It's just weird."

"What, scared that I'll show you up?" He grinned, knowing how competitive his best friend was about everything. Jake frowned instantly.

"No."

"Sure," Thomas drawled, gathering his books together since the library was closing shortly. "So, what's up?"

Jake decided that the truth was the best option at this point. "Well, you know how Phillip thinks that our Isabelle is Isabelle Evans?"

"I never said my brother's sane," Thomas joked, as they left the library and walked into the crisp December air.

"He's right."

Thomas stopped, and looked at Jake like he'd suddenly sprouted wings. "Say what?"

"Yeah. When I tried to talk to Isabelle about it, she freaked out and ran away. I looked for her around town, but obviously haven't found her. The guy at the International Floo Station says that he thinks that someone who fits Isabelle's description was at the station earlier. I had him check the logs, and if that's her, she left for London around four o'clock, our time."

"Your ass is toast," Thomas said disbelievingly. "If Phillip doesn't kill you, and trust me, he will, Sarah Lindsay will rip you apart. Is that why you're talking to me? Do you honestly think that I'll take your side against both of them?"

"You're my best friend."

"You screwed up, big time. How are you sure this is the right girl, anyway? She could be lying."

"No one is that good of a liar. Help me think of a plan to find Isabelle."

"Other than going to London to find her? Good luck finding her on her home turf. If I was you, I'd disappear before Phillip figures out that you lost his girl," Thomas smirked.

She's not his girl, Jake thought angrily. "Thanks for the support."

"Anytime."

When the two reached their apartment, Jake seriously considered heading to his father's house instead, but a well-placed anti-Apparation charm from Thomas prevented him from doing so. Jake didn't realize his friend's magical skill was so advanced, and filed that piece of information away in his brain for later use. Thomas practically shoved him into the living room.

"Hey," Sarah Lindsay said, completely engrossed in It's a Wonderful Life. She made a disgusted snort when Thomas crossed in front of the television to sit beside her on the dilapidated sofa. "Pass me a tissue, will you?"

"You're watching this?" Thomas asked Phillip with a pursed expression. His brother looked at him blankly and then at the television.

"Didn't realize chick TV was on," he replied, dodging a hex from Sarah Lindsay. "Watch out. She's feisty tonight."

"I'm always feisty," she said sassily, flashing him a toothy grin. "Hey, Jake?"

He stopped halfway down the hallway, and turned around slowly. "Yeah?"

"Do you know where Isabelle is? She hasn't been home all night, and she isn't with Brit. Do you know if she went somewhere with Bubba for the weekend?" Sarah Lindsay innocently inquired.

"I don't know where Isabelle is," Jake answered honestly, disappearing down the hallway. Irritated, Thomas jumped up and dragged his friend back into the living room, holding him by the collar.

"Tell them," Thomas insisted.

"Tell us what?" Phillip asked, looking back and forth between his brother and Jake. "What's going on?"

Jake looked at the carpet, practically staring a hole in the thin, cheap carpeting. "I talked to Isabelle today."

"So?" Phillip shrugged, unconcerned. This was nothing new. Jake and Isabelle hung out every day after classes; in fact, most people assumed they were dating, which irritated Phillip to no undying end.

"She, uh, she overheard us Thanksgiving. When we were talking about her maybe being Isabelle Evans," Jake continued quietly, wishing that Thomas would let go of his shirt.

"Oh." Phillip dropped his pen absentmindedly. "What did she say about it?"

"To tell you that you were right. Then she got really upset and ran away," Jake said in a rush, bracing himself for the storm.

"She what!?!" Sarah Lindsay screamed, throwing the tissue box at her brother. "You just stood there and let her run off mad? Why didn't you go after her? I thought you were her friend."

"I _am_ her friend," Jake seethed defensively. "It's not my fault that she took what I said the wrong way."

"What did you say?" Phillip asked calmly. Far too calmly for Jake's comfort level.

"Well, she was admitting all this stuff, talking about her family. I was confused; after all, she doesn't know me that well comparatively. What I wanted to ask is if she told other people who weren't trustworthy, random people, about her family. I was worried that she compromised her safety. And if she did, I wanted to know because I could talk to Dad about protecting her and stuff," he babbled, as Thomas tightened his grip on his shirt.

"What did you say?" he asked again.

"I asked how she was sure that I wouldn't run to the Ministry in London and tell them what I knew," Jake admitted, ashamed.

"And how did she reply?" Phillip's voice remained eerily cool and collected.

"Something about Sirius Black that I didn't understand. Then she ordered me to leave Bubba alone, I think. It all happened so fast. Before I could try to calm her down, she was gone. And I don't know where she went."

"You idiot!" Sarah Lindsay covered her head with her hands. "She was my best friend. I'd never had a witch for a friend before, not one who didn't really mind that I'm a–you know. You made her run away, and I'll never see her again."

Thomas let go of Jake, rushed over to her and hugged her tightly. "It's all right. You can't help who your parents are, so stop worrying about it already, 'k?"

"That's easy for you to say. I know how horrible I feel when snotty wizard people make fun of me because I'm a–you know," came her muffled voice. "Can you imagine how much it hurts Isabelle for people to talk about her family all of the time, and she can't say anything about it? If someone insults her sister, or calls that Black guy a cold-hearted murderer, she has to take it. I'd run away, too."

"I didn't mean to hurt her, Sarah Lindsay. You know how I am," Jake said pleadingly.

"Not good with words, you mean? Stubborn? Irritating? Yeah, I know exactly how you are. Funny, Isabelle was your biggest defender. And look at how you repaid her," his sister shot venomously.

"I'm sorry." He looked at Phillip apprehensively, who was in some sort of trance. Phillip looked back down at the notes for his paper, closed his book, and neatly arranged his pile of junk. He then jumped to his feet and began choking the life out of Jake, who couldn't fight back. Phillip was too strong, especially when angry.

"I'm going to kill you," he roared, knocking Jake to the ground. "No, you're not worth going to prison for. I trusted you."

"Sorry," Jake gasped, truly fearing for his life. He'd never seen Phillip lose his temper like this.

"Sorry isn't good enough. Sorry won't bring her back." He stepped back and looked at his friend. "Yeah, I'm sorry, too. Sorry I listened to you."

"Phillip--" Jake began.

"Don't even. I don't want to hear a word you have to say. And right now, I can't even stand the sight of you." Phillip Disapparated with a deafening pop, going to the only place he could think of to find her: London.

-----

With her bag slung over her shoulder, Isabelle navigated through busy Diagon Alley and into Java Jack's Coffee and Pastry Shoppe for a much-needed cup of hot chocolate. There was just something about Java Jack's hot chocolate that warmed her bones up from the inside out. And after spending the morning sightseeing and window shopping, she needed a break from the chill. Being in America for the past year had her accustomed to a much warmer climate.

After paying for her oversized mug of steaming hot chocolate, she parked herself at a window table and observed the passers-by. She recognized several of her old classmates from Hogwarts, some of Lily's old friends, and a few Ministry officials. A stab of loneliness pierced her heart as she thought of all the times she and her family had gone holiday shopping. In fact, it was James who introduced her to Java Jack's when she was a little girl.

She missed her family, and coming to London did little to heal her still-partially open wounds. But, at least here she didn't have to watch her friends interact with their families. Every time she saw Brittany talking with her mother, or joking around with her brothers, Isabelle was so jealous that she could hardly see straight. Isabelle would give anything to go out for a mother-daughter bonding trip with her mother.

Although going out with Mrs. Spence was the next best thing to her mother, or Mummy P, Isabelle admitted to herself. But, she always felt like she was imposing, a third wheel. She convinced herself that no one in Williamsburg would actually miss her, Severus least of all. Shoot, he would probably be overjoyed that Isabelle struck out on her own. That way, he could get on with his life without her tagging along. Same for everyone else. Besides, she didn't belong there. Her place was here, in England with her family.

Well, what was left of it. She stirred her hot chocolate, slowly deciding to break the unspoken rule that she was to have no contact with Harry. He was the only family she could find, the only tie she had to her former life. After all, it was Christmas, and the holiday season was supposed to be spent with loved ones, family.

With an excited grin, Isabelle finished her mug, stood up, and bundled up for the cold. For the first time in her life, she happily set off to the one place she'd never felt welcome, that no one would expect for her to go to – Number Four, Privet Drive.

-----

Isabelle was surprised to see the Dursleys' house completely quiet and dark. Although it was a Saturday night, her sister didn't usually go out, preferring to entertain guests in her own home on the weekends. Puzzled, she snuck around the side of the house to the backyard to find the spare key. It hadn't occurred to her to use magic to break into the home, perhaps because Petunia was so set against anything magical.

After searching in a few predictable locations, Isabelle found the spare key underneath a potted plant, and let herself into the kitchen. The familiar, tidy room hadn't changed a bit since she last visited in Easter of her fourth year. The only indication that time had passed at all was that the calendar on the wall read 1982, instead of 1980. It was eerie, to say the least.

Starving hungry, she opened the refrigerator and examined its contents, hoping for something that was at least edible. Petunia had bread and orange marmalade, which was better than nothing. Isabelle wolfed down four pieces of bread and three glasses of milk before even closing the refrigerator door. She then crossed the room to see if Petunia put their location on the calendar, so that she would have an idea of when to expect the Dursleys home.

"Dinner party at the Shallot's house, six to ten o'clock," Isabelle read aloud. She glanced at the clock, which read eight thirty.

On the way to the living room to watch television while waiting for her sister to come back home, she studied the photographs on the walls. Not one single photograph had herself, Lily or Harry in them. It was if none of them even existed. She and Lily were understandable, in a sick, mean sort of way. Petunia didn't get along with either of her sisters. But no pictures of a child that Petunia was raising? That seemed awfully cold, even for Petunia.

An enormous, perfectly decorated white Christmas tree dominated one whole corner of the living room. The unplugged blue lights were flawlessly arranged, as were the ornaments. The entire tree struck Isabelle as impersonal, almost sterile-looking. But, she was fond of live trees. There was nothing like the crisp, outdoorsy smell of a live Christmas tree to put her in the holiday spirit.

Curious, Isabelle plopped down in front of the tree and examined the large piles of presents. Her heart sank when she slowly realized that Harry had no presents within reach. Surely Petunia wouldn't exclude him from the family celebration, so Isabelle reached farther back. The harsh truth sank in: Petunia treated Harry with as much love and attention that she herself had received during her sister's care.

The ratting of paper woke up little Harry, who emerged from his cupboard turned bedroom to greet his family. He didn't like being left alone for long, and was incredibly lonely. No one was available to babysit him during the hectic holiday season, so Petunia told him to behave and not to leave his cupboard until they got home. Or else. But, the cupboard was dark and scary. And he was hungry. So, the little boy crept into the living room, blinking oddly.

"Aunt Is-belle?" he asked disbelievingly, staring as Isabelle's head whipped around in surprise. "Missed you."

Isabelle ran to her nephew, scooped him up, and held him tightly. "Oh, Harry, I've missed you, too. You remember me?"

"Yup," came his muffled, happy voice. "And Mummy, and Daddy, and Uncle Sir-us, and Gracie. Where are they? I miss my mummy."

"I miss your mummy, too." Isabelle fought the urge to break down in tears. She had to be strong, for Harry's sake. "But, your mummy and daddy are really dead, love. I'm so sorry."

"Oh." Harry's face fell sadly.

"But, I'm here. I know your Aunt Petunia said I was dead, but I wasn't. I had to go away for a while so that the bad people wouldn't kill me, too," Isabelle explained, hoping he would understand.

"Where did you go?" he inquired curiously, thrilled that someone was actually talking to him.

"America. All over America. It's across the ocean."

"Why?"

Isabelle snorted, which turned into a laughing fit. Harry didn't know what he did that was so funny, but was proud of himself nonetheless. "That's such a good question. I have no idea why I had to go there."

"Where's Gracie? I miss Gracie a lot. I like her better than Dudley. He's mean," Harry said, dropping his voice.

"Gracie had to go away, too. So did Uncle Sirius. They still love you, though. So do I. I love you so much, Harry. I thought about you every single day." She hugged him even tighter.

"You love me!" he screamed, throwing his little arms around her neck. "I love you, Aunt Is-belle."

For the first time, Isabelle understood why Sirius spent so much time with her all those years ago. When she looked into Harry's haunted, love-starved eyes, she imagined that she was much like him. It was a heartbreaking sight, and Isabelle knew that she couldn't leave him there, just like Sirius couldn't leave her. She had to take Harry away from this, to give him a loving environment. And a real Christmas.

-----

Armed with Petunia Dursley's address scratched on a scrap piece of parchment, and a map of England that he bought from a street vendor, Phillip ducked into the Leaky Cauldron for a cup of tea (he had no hope whatsoever for coffee) while he figured out exactly where Surrey was, and how to get there. It had taken him three hours to sift through the Muggle records to find Isabelle's sister's address. First, he had to look up Petunia's name in the birth registry, because he wasn't quite sure what it was. Then he had to find her marriage license for her married name before he could even attempt to tackle the deed books.

He got the idea that Isabelle may be with her Muggle sister, or at least try to find Harry, after he couldn't find her anywhere in the wizarding areas of Great Britain. By now, Phillip had been awake all night and day searching. Exhausted, frustrated and cold, he slumped over his steaming cup of tea and seriously considered attempting to Transfigure it into coffee. Before he could stop himself, his head landed on the table with a soft thud and he fell asleep, waking up two hours later.

"Damn it," he said, rubbing his eyes, and trying to feel at least somewhat alert.

Unrolling the map of Muggle Great Britain, Phillip was highly amused with the number of places that could also be found in Virginia. He theorized that the early colonists were simply lazy and couldn't be bothered with finding original names for new settlements. For instance, Surrey, the area he was trying to find, was the county across the river from Williamsburg. Spelled Surry, not Surrey, but still. Close enough to make Phillip roll his eyes while locating Privet Drive.

He smiled triumphantly and Disapparated, landing in the middle of a street lined with identical-looking houses. Accustomed to differing architectural styles, the cookie cutter neighborhood make him purse his lips disgustedly. Who would work themselves into the ground, just to live in a house live everyone else? Whatever happened to individualism?

"Number 10, 8, 6," he muttered, stopping in front of Number 4, Privet Drive. Now what? he thought. Do I just Apparate inside the house?

Phillip did exactly that, appearing in the middle of the thankfully empty Dursleys' kitchen. On the table, weighted down by a bowl of pomegranates, was a letter. He picked up the hastily scribbled note, heart sinking at he read its contents.

_Dear Mrs. Dursley, _

_Thank you for taking care of your nephew, Harry, for the past year. Your services as a guardian are no longer needed as he has been placed in another home. I would've spoken to you personally about the matter, but you were not home when I called earlier this evening. _

_The new home is quite eager to have Harry for the holidays, so surely you understand the need for haste in removing him from your home. You needn't be bothered with him any further. _

"Isabelle, what have you done?" he whispered, the note fluttering from his hands. A key in the front door lock alerted Phillip to the Dursleys' return, so he hid out of sight, curious as to what Isabelle's Muggle family was truly like.

"No, Dudders, stay away from the presents," he heard a female voice say. "All right, you can open one. Just one tonight."

Waddling, heavy footsteps sounded down the hallway, and a portly man clicked on the light. He spied the note on the table, crossed the room, picked it up, and exclaimed excitedly. Waving it in the air, he called out for his wife.

"Petunia, darling, you won't believe this. While we were at the party, someone came and put your freakish nephew with another family. Probably a family full of his kind." Vernon Dursley stroked his moustache with approval, as Petunia rushed into the kitchen, high-heels clacking her arrival.

"You're kidding me? How wonderful!" she gushed. "I wonder who came for him. The note's unsigned."

"He's better off with his kind, anyway. It's not as if we could do anything for that sister of yours, not after she got tangled up with Lily and her mates," Vernon glowered. Petunia's eyes narrowed angrily.

"Isabelle was a thorn in my side since the day she was born. Now that she's nice and dead, there's no need in mentioning her, now is there?" she seethed.

Phillip couldn't believe his ears. No wonder Isabelle came to America instead of living with her other sister. He wondered what could she have possibly done to make Petunia Dursley hate her so much. And their reaction to Harry's sudden disappearance – truly heartless, in his opinion. He didn't blame Isabelle for taking him, not one little bit.

The problem was, where would she go with a two year old? Out of ideas and energy, Phillip Apparated to his parents' house in Williamsburg, appearing on the family room sofa. He didn't want to even see Jake yet, and besides, part of him wanted his mommy, despite being a grown man. It had been a nightmarish couple of days.


	14. Chapter 12: Picture Perfect

**Chapter 12: Picture Perfect**

"Aunt Is-belle?" Harry asked plaintively. Isabelle shifted him in her arms, looked down at him and smiled.

"What, love?"

"Where are we going?"

It was a perfectly reasonable question, but she didn't really have a good answer for it. They'd spent the past few hours on public transit back to London, and were nearing King's Cross Station. By then, she hoped to have some sort of plan of where to go, or what to do. Her wallet was wearing awfully thin, and could be emptied in no time flat between she and Harry.

"Where do you want to go?" She turned the question back around to buy time to think. "What do you want to see? A Christmas tree? Lights? Santa Claus?"

"No, a picture of my mummy and daddy," Harry answered immediately.

Oh, bugger, Isabelle thought. He asks for the one thing I _don't_ have. "All right, is that before or after Santa?"

"Before. And before tree," he added.

Isabelle's mind searched for somewhere that would contain a picture of Lily and James where Harry wouldn't be recognized. Even now, his likeness was in the wizarding media often, in stories concerning the aftermath of the fall of the Dark Lord. This was an incredibly tall order, because the Potters weren't important to the Muggle world.

In fact, she could only come up with one place where Petunia couldn't reach Harry, not that Isabelle expected her sister to care about their nephew's whereabouts, but no one would spot Harry. And would contain plenty of family pictures. The only difficulty was getting onto the property. It was supposedly impossible to break into.

But for her nephew's sake, Isabelle was about to attempt the impossible. Failure was not an option, and neither was getting caught. As she carried a sleepy Harry through the station, she went over her plan. If all went well, she and Harry would disappear without a trace.

The sheer difficulty of what she was about to attempt struck Isabelle as she walked down the quiet neighborhood streets of Chelsea. After the Potters died, James and Regina couldn't bear to return to the house, so they sealed it up against theft. As far as everyone knew, the charms they cast only had one countercharm, which they told no one, not even Lily and Sirius. But, one night, during the summer she lived with Sirius and Gracie, she learned of a secret entrance onto the property.

After Regina died, Sirius developed an alcohol problem, consequently spending most of his time off work in an inebriated state of some form or another. Highly delusional, he began babbling to his collection of bottles one morning about his pathetic childhood and the few good memories he had. One being sneaking into the coat closet on the main floor, lifting the floor panels, and sneaking to the Potters' house via an underground tunnel.

So, she cast a camouflaging charm on herself and Harry about a block away from the neighboring houses. All would work perfectly, as long as Sirius' father was out of town. Isabelle would break into the house and slip into the Potters' house, and no one would be the wiser. The only problem being that when she reached the Black house, every light was on.

"Is Sirius' dad having a party or something?" she mused to herself.

"Uncle Sir-us?" Harry chimed in loudly, looking around excitedly. Isabelle stopped and smiled at him, trying to figure out how to keep him quiet for the next few minutes.

"No, he's not here," she said, her face equally sad as Harry's. "But, we're going somewhere there are lots of pictures of your mummy and daddy. You'll have to be very quiet, though. Can you be quiet until I tell you it's okay to talk again?"

"Yes, Aunt Is-belle," he replied seriously, putting his head on her shoulder.

Isabelle took a deep breath and walked up the small flight of stairs, somewhat surprised to find the door unlocked. Careful not to put any fingerprints on the door, she entered the home and tried to remember where the coat closet was. Sirius had only taken her inside his old house twice, and both times were before she left for Hogwarts.

As she tiptoed by the living room, she spied the unconscious form of Sirius' father. Isabelle carefully sat Harry on the floor with instructions not to move, and crept into the living room. The sight was so disgustedly familiar that her stomach turned. She wondered how many times Sirius walked in on a scene identical to this in his own youth. Enough to replicate it when his own life became unbearable.

William Black grunted, opened his eyes, and squinted. "Are you an angel?"

No, just a blonde teenager, she replied mentally. And how much have you had to drink to think yourself a recipient of a visit from the divine? "Why do you ask?"

"Why visit me now?" he slurred in his Scottish brogue. "Where was God when my wife died? What about when my son turned traitor and killed innocent people, including my granddaughter? And--"

"Where were you when your son needed you?" Isabelle shot back.

"What?" His voice was hazy and confused.

"Sirius. Your son, who your wife died to bring into the world? We both know why she had Sirius, even though she wasn't supposed to have children. Instead of treating him like the gift he is, you cast him aside," she accused.

"He was too much like her. He had her eyes, her expressions. It hurt too much," he protested feebly, reaching for a bottle. "I heard him playing the guitar once, just as well as she did. I miss her so much."

"You're a selfish, pathetic excuse for a human being."

A blind rage consumed Isabelle. In her opinion, William Black was no better than her own father; so, they should share a fate by her hands. It was only fitting. Sirius didn't deserve the hand he was dealt. By eliminating his father, she was doing him a favor. One less person in the world to drag Sirius down and harm his self-worth. She took out her wand and pointed it at Sirius' father's temple.

"Avada--"

Her voice stopped abruptly when she saw a pair of inquisitive green eyes staring at her from the doorway. Harry had gotten bored and came looking for her, with a guilty expression on his face. Isabelle's arm dropped to her side limply. Even if she was capable of being a cold-blooded killer, she couldn't hurt anyone in front of Harry. Especially since he watched Lily die by the very same curse.

"Go scriosa cúnna ifrinn thú." (May the hounds of hell destroy you.)

Sirius' father passed out again before the words left her mouth. Still possessed by anger, she spat on him, turned around and left the room. Without saying anything to Harry, she scooped him up, located the underground passageway, and stormed through the low, narrow passageway. They emerged in the kitchen cupboard, which was empty, much to Isabelle's chagrin.

"Aunt Is-belle?" came Harry's little voice. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad at you," she replied absentmindedly. Being in the house brought back so many memories that Williamsburg seemed like a far-off, distant dream. Here, with Harry felt much more real. "This is your grandparents' house. Your daddy's parents."

"Oh," he said wondrously, taking in the kitchen reverently.

Isabelle took Harry's hand and guided him upstairs to a large spare bedroom, where she often stayed as a child. She blacked out the windows so that the lantern light wouldn't be visible from the street. The room looked exactly as it did when she last saw it when she was twelve. A flick of her wand freshened up the space, and she gazed around approvingly.

"Come here, Harry." She patted the space on the bed beside her, plucking a picture from the night stand. "These are your parents right after they got married. See your mummy? Doesn't she have the prettiest red hair? And, there's your daddy, making faces at the camera. He never did like having his picture taken."

"They're waving," Harry said, awe-struck.

"Yup. Wave back," Isabelle instructed him. "Now, I wonder if there's a cot in the attic, or if I should just Transfigure something...You're probably too big for a cot, anyway, aren't you?"

Harry didn't hear her question because he was too busy waving at the picture and giggling with delight. Extremely tired, Isabelle decided that the double bed was large enough for the both of them, at least for one night. So, she made quick work of getting the two of them ready for bed. Harry insisted on keeping the lantern lit so he could see his parents, and fell asleep mid-wave.

-----

Severus let himself into the apartment early Monday morning, with an uncharacteristic smile on his face. He'd had a lovely weekend with Stacey, the sort of weekend that made him reconsider his decision not to move to New York City. The two had walked up and down the streets, enjoying the holiday sights and smells. It wasn't quite the same as when he had been with Regina, but then again, Regina was one of a kind.

And, Severus felt nearly ready to move on, to think about making a life with someone else. That was what Regina herself wanted, and what she did. Although Severus wished that she had chosen someone else. Marrying Sirius Black was a severe blow to his ego, but thinking about him rotting in prison did wonders for Severus' humor. Revenge was sweet, especially during the holiday season.

He grabbed a drink from the refrigerator and flopped down on the sofa, still smiling. When Isabelle got home from school, he'd discuss possibly relocating to the city after her semester was over. She'd probably be thrilled; she always complained about traveling to her dance lessons via portkey. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize the telephone was ringing until the answering machine picked up.

"Hello, this is the attendance office at Jamestown High. We're calling because Isabelle Randolph has not reported for classes this morning. Please give the office a telephone call as soon as possible with her whereabouts. Thank you."

The answering machine clicked off, as a cold chill ran down Severus' spine. Isabelle wasn't in class? It was unlike her to miss school, unless she was physically unable to go to class. She generally enjoyed learning, and definitely loved the socialization. He frowned, and walked to the boys' apartment down the hallway. Perhaps they had all arranged to cut class for the day, or would at least know where she was.

An agitated Jake answered the door, freezing when he saw Severus hovering in the doorway with a massive scowl on his face. He swallowed nervously, wishing that Phillip was here. But, he had reluctantly gone to the school library to finish his paper while he and Thomas looked for Isabelle. They had hoped to find her before Severus came home, but apparently that plan had failed.

"Do you know where Isabelle is?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow that Jake hadn't opened the door all the way.

He began to think that the two were carrying on some sort of love affair that was more important to Isabelle than her education. If there was one thing that could keep her from focusing on her own life, it was a man. It hadn't taken Severus long to figure that out. Without a word to Jake, he walked into the apartment and nodded a greeting to Thomas, who looked equally uneasy.

"Uh, no," Jake said, trying to control the tone of his voice. "We, um, we need to tell you something."

"All right." This had better be good, Severus thought. It wasn't often that he was in a cheery mood, and it would be fitting for Isabelle to ruin it.

"We, uh, we know about Isabelle," Jake stuttered.

"Know what?" Severus wondered what this had to do with her physical location.

"I mean, we know about her. Who she really is. That's she's the missing Isabelle Evans." There, Jake thought. I finally got it out.

"What?" Severus said sharply, feeling a wave of dread overtake him.

"When I tried to talk to her about it Friday night, she got really defensive and ran away. Phillip looked for her for two days, but couldn't find her. Thomas and I were getting ready to go look when you showed up. We were hoping to find her before you got back from New York, but..." his voice trailed off.

"I see." Severus wasn't a man to show his anger, and did a brilliant job of controlling his emotions. He didn't know who he was angrier at – her friends for not informing him of the situation days ago, or Isabelle for thoughtlessly running away. "Well, both of you have Apparation licenses, right?"

"Yes, sir," both replied in unison.

"Then we're going to Hogsmeade. Meet me at the cemetery gate in five minutes." He Disapparated with a concerned pop, leaving Jake and Thomas to stare at each other uneasily.

"That went better than I thought," Thomas said, shrugging in relief.

-----

"Are you still hungry, Harry?" Isabelle asked, portioning herself some chicken and rice that she'd bought earlier that day from a nearby restaurant. The little boy shook his head no, but patiently waited for her to finish wolfing down her dinner.

"Can we go in the living room?" he asked several minutes later, eager to see the pictures. Isabelle hadn't worked up her nerve to face the old memories yet, but Harry's hopeful face caused her to take a deep breath, pick him up, and walk into the living room.

Harry beamed at the sight of picture frames throughout the room. He barely made a sound as Isabelle walked him from picture to picture, explaining who was who, and when the picture was taken. She tried not to become depressed that the picture chronology abruptly ended shortly after she left for Hogwarts, and hoped Harry wouldn't notice. Having to explain that his grandparents were killed by Lord Voldemort as well wasn't on her list of fun holiday activities.

"Who's this?" Harry pointed a curious finger to a silver-framed black and white picture.

Isabelle's breath caught in her throat, and time seemed to stand still. She fought to find her voice. "Who do you think it is?"

"Uncle Sir-us. But who is the girl? She's pretty."

"The girl," her eyes teared up, "is me. This picture was taken right after your mummy came to look after me, when I was eight years old. Your Uncle Sirius and I were in Inish Shark to watch your daddy play Quidditch. Do you remember what Quidditch is?"

"Yes. Quaffle and Bludger and Snitch. Oh, and broomstick," he recited proudly.

"You have an amazing memory. Would you like to see your daddy playing Quidditch?"

"Yes!"

Isabelle sat him on the sofa with a large picture of James from the finals of the Quidditch World Cup, which completely enthralled Harry. While he was busy, she walked back over to the photograph of herself and Sirius. She closed her eyes, remembering when it was taken.

It was shortly before the match, and Sirius had taken her shopping for a bit. Not having traveled much, she grew tired, so he lifted her onto his shoulders so she could still see and hear everything. When Mummy P saw the two of them milling around, she found the sight hilarious and clicked the photograph. She watched Sirius pretending to drop her, and her eight year old self shrieking in mock terror and clutching to his neck and face.

_"__Sirius!" Isabelle's young, piercing voice called out. "I'm going to fall." _

_He laughed confidently and began twirling her around. "You're not going to fall, string bean. I've got you, trust me." _

_"__But--" _

_"__I won't let you fall," he repeated, smiling up at her._

"Aunt Is-belle?" Harry's cheerful voice interrupted her memory. She turned around, where he was pointing to a photograph on the end table. "Where's that?"

Isabelle smiled, and joined him on the couch, picking up the photo to examine it more closely. "This is our home in Dover. Our family, your mummy's family, has lived there for over a hundred years. That's a long time."

Harry nodded seriously. "Atari is there."

"Yes," Isabelle laughed disbelievingly, wondering how he could remember that. "Atari is there."

"So is Furry."

"What's Furry?"

"Furry," Harry repeated, unable to describe it further.

"Is Furry your imaginary friend?" Isabelle inquired, scooping him up in a silly, messy hug. "I had an imaginary friend once. Her name was Lucy. We used to play together in the wardrobe. Do you ever hide in the wardrobe?"

"Yeah," he said, in a very small voice. "Did Aunt 'Tunia find you?"

"No, your daddy did. Your Aunt Petunia's too stupid to know where to look, isn't she?"

"She's a dumb cow," Harry burst out, immediately adopting a false contrite look. His amused aunt laughed and tightened her grip on him. He was such a clever child.

Isabelle bit her lip, remembering the first few days after Lily moved in, before James left for Quidditch World Cup training. She hid in the wardrobe because Sirius knew about her fort, and would go looking for her there. It worked until she developed a sneezing fit as James happened to walk by the guest room.

"Aunt Is-belle, what does your shirt say?" Harry asked, changing the subject abruptly. Lost in thought, she looked down at the t-shirt and blinked rapidly.

"It says 'William and Mary Soccer'," she replied tightly, realizing for the first time that the t-shirt she grabbed to lounge around in was Phillip's. A sharp pang of guilt stabbed her as she thought of her friends in Williamsburg. As much as she tried to convince herself that they didn't care that she was gone, her heart knew that leaving the way she did was wrong. Very wrong.

"What's soccer?" he inquired innocently.

"Well, it's a game played on the ground," Isabelle tried to explain, her mind whirling with guilt. "It's like Quidditch, only with more people, and one ball."

"Do you play?"

"Actually, I'm not very good at it," she admitted.

"Then why have the shirt?"

"Because I borrowed it from a friend."

"Who?"

Isabelle pasted a saccharine smile on her face in an attempt to mask her irritation. "Someone named Phillip Spence. He plays soccer."

"Oh," Harry said, mollified. He picked up the picture of James playing Quidditch again, instantly engrossed.

Isabelle stared at the rug, wondering whether Severus had realized yet that she was gone. And if so, had he looked for her? Had anyone missed her, wanted her to come back to America? An unbidden image of Phillip invaded her mind, causing her to question why she instantly thought of him. Since when had Phillip mattered to her? She shook her head, attributing the oddity to Harry's last line of questioning.

She slumped into the sofa, remembering that this week was final examinations at William and Mary. If any of the guys was worried about her, it might negatively impact their concentration. Because of her stupidity, she may hurt someone else. But, what was she to do?

Taking Harry to Petunia's was not even an option. However, although she had her wizarding passport for international Floo travel, Harry didn't have any papers. And carrying around a small boy with a very noticeable lightning bolt-shaped scar through Diagon Alley would certainly attract attention. Neither of them had Muggle passports on them, or the money for airfare, so they couldn't use Muggle transport.

Which only left one way to return to Williamsburg with Harry: Apparation. Isabelle swallowed back her fear. Although she had gotten her Apparation license recently, the doctors at the hospital wouldn't let her use it because of her injuries on Halloween. So, her very first real Apparation (the American test was a joke) would be across the ocean with a toddler.

Well, she told herself firmly, may as well get it over with and live with the consequences.

She turned to Harry. "Love, how would you like to come to America with me for Christmas?"

"Could I?" His eyes lit up joyfully.

"Of course you can. I need to pack up first, then we'll be on our way, all right? Can you wait here for a couple of minutes?" Isabelle asked, standing up and sitting Harry on the floor.

"Yup," he said cheerfully, grinning up at her.

Isabelle rushed upstairs and quickly packed her knapsack. With a backwards glance, she closed the guest bedroom door behind her. She hurried into the living room, thankful to find everything as she left it, except that Harry seemed to have misplaced a shoe. After a ten minute hunt, she thought to use the Summoning Charm, which instantly brought the missing sneaker into her hand.

"Some witch I am," she muttered, laughing out loud. "Ok, Harry, I have space in my bag for you to take one picture with us. Which one would you like to take?"

The little boy's brow furrowed thoughtfully, and he walked about the room, finally settling on a photograph of his parents horsing around on the front lawn of the Dover estate. James was flying through the trees, shaking them and causing large piles of leaves to fall on Lily, who was not amused. So, she would retaliate by sending well-placed hexes after him. It was a happy, funny scene. Isabelle shrunk the photograph, wrapping it inside a sweater for safekeeping.

As she closed the bag, her eyes fell on the picture of she and Sirius from Inish Shark. A lump formed in her throat, and she teared up. With shaking hands, she removed the silver frame from the shelf and traced Sirius' face with her finger. She couldn't bear to put it back, so she smiled sadly, opened her bag again, and lovingly placed the photograph inside.

"Are you ready?" she asked, slinging her bag on her shoulder and picking him up. Harry nodded, and wiped a tear from Isabelle's cheek.

"I miss Uncle Sir-us, too," he said quietly.

"Oh, Harry!" Isabelle cried, clutching him like a lifeline. It took all her energy to not break down then and there. After composing herself, she took a deep breath, concentrated, and Disapparated. The pair disappeared with a faint, but distinct, pop.

-----

Rubbing his temples wearily, Phillip let himself into Severus and Isabelle's apartment and turned on the living room lamps with a casual flick of his wand. He threw his bookbag to the floor with a thud and collapsed on the sofa, which squeaked and complained nosily because of his abuse of it. Stretching out his aching limbs, he mentally went over the past few nightmarish days. 

Part of him couldn't believe that it was already Monday afternoon, and Isabelle had been missing for three entire days. But, the rest of him thought that the past seventy-two hours had dragged by slowly and painfully, constantly reminding him that she was gone, perhaps forever. Not wanting to think about that idea, he forced himself to remain optimistic. Maybe Thomas, Jake and Severus would find her today.

He brooded that all three men insisted that he stay in town to finish his paper which was due earlier that afternoon. Somehow, he managed to focus long enough to get the treatise on Colonial Virginian political history done, although for the life of him, he couldn't remember what his main thesis argument was. Luckily, he had done the majority of the work for it earlier in the semester. Working himself into the ground was the only way he found to get Isabelle off his mind.

And now, with a couple hours study break, he immediately headed to her apartment, where Severus invited him to study and wait for any news. Despite his own agitation, Severus realized that the younger man wouldn't do a bit of work in his own living space, so he extended the invitation in a rare charitable moment. There was something in Phillip Spence that reminded the former Death Eater of himself, although he couldn't quite figure out what it was.

The tiny hairs on the back of Phillip's head began to stand up, and his body tensed. He sensed the presence of someone else in the apartment. The light sound of footprints echoed down the hallway a minute later, and Phillip decided to make his move. In one swift movement, he sat up, grabbed his wand and pointed it in the direction of the hallway.

To his utter shock, a pair of confused, wide green eyes stared at him. The eyes belonged to a little, dark-haired boy. Phillip blinked rapidly, wondering if he was seeing things. But, the toddler didn't disappear. Instead, he cautiously sat down in the doorway to the living room and examined Phillip curiously.

"Hello," the little boy said softly, in a cheerful English accent. Between the accent and the tell-tale lightning bolt scar on his forehead, Phillip immediately knew the toddler's identity.

"Hello, Harry," Phillip replied, lowering himself to his level.

Harry's face fell into a befuddled expression. "How do you know my name?"

"Well," Phillip said slowly, "because you and I are old friends. Bet you don't remember me, do you?"

"No." His baby face shook from side to side sheepishly.

From her bed, Isabelle sat up, and opened her mouth to call her nephew back to her bedroom. But, she decided to eavesdrop instead. Phillip already knew she was here; may as well rest for a few more minutes before facing Severus when he arrived. The trans-Atlantic Apparation sapped her of all her energy, so she was still quite tired.

"I met you two years ago, when you were still a little baby at a Christmas party," Phillip explained.

"Ohhh," Harry said, his grin widening. "Did you know my mummy and daddy? And Aunt Is-belle and Uncle Sir-us? And Gracie?"

Isabelle smiled at being grouped with Sirius. 'Aunt Is-belle and Uncle Sir-us' – she loved the sound of that. Harry was obviously brilliant, she decided. And perhaps a Seer as well? Lost in her daydreaming of a future with Sirius, she nearly missed Phillip's answer.

"Yes, I met both your mummy and daddy. Your mummy and Aunt Isabelle were the prettiest ladies at the party by far." Harry's delighted expression inspired Phillip to search his memory for more details. "If I remember right, your mummy wore a light purple dress--"

"Lavender," Isabelle whispered softly.

"–and your Aunt Isabelle was in a dark pink dress."

"Coral. It was coral," she hissed indignantly, frowning childishly. Leave it to a man to call a coral ballgown 'pink'.

"And your daddy nearly punched me out for flirting with your aunt," Phillip recalled. Harry gasped and his little hands flew over his mouth.

"No," he breathed.

"But your Uncle Sirius saved my skin, thank God." He smiled, remembering the evening. It was one of the best in his life, actually, despite the run-in with James Potter. Besides, considering how ungentlemanly he had acted towards Isabelle earlier that fall, Phillip conceded that maybe Harry's father had a point. Phillip frowned.

"What's your name?" Harry asked in a rush, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

"Phillip Spence," he answered, puzzled while Harry's whole face lit up again.

"I know you!" the little boy exclaimed more loudly than he intended. "You play soccer, and Aunt Is-belle is wearing your shirt. She is sorry she stole it. Oh, and she missed you."

Isabelle felt like beating her head against her headboard. How could Harry say that? She immediately swore to teach him about secrets at the soonest opportunity.

"She missed me?" Phillip's heart leapt in his chest.

"Yup," Harry said with an authoritative nod. "Do you know where Gracie is? I miss her and want to play."

"No, I'm afraid that I don't," he replied sadly. "But, I'll play with you if you want me too. Would you like me to show you how to kick a soccer ball?"

"Oh, brilliant!" Harry clasped a hand over his mouth again.

"What is it?" Phillip wondered.

"Aunt Is-belle said that I had to be quiet if I wanted to play because she's tired. She's sleeping."

Not with all this racket, Isabelle thought ruefully.

"All right, how about I cast a charm so that no matter how much noise we make, your aunt won't wake up?" Phillip asked.

"Wicked!" Harry looked at the young man adoringly.

That is awfully considerate of Phillip, she admitted grudgingly before falling into a deep slumber.


	15. Chapter 13: Harsh Realities

**Chapter 13: Harsh Realities**

An hour later, Isabelle woke up, feeling fairly refreshed, considering the events of the past few days. She tentatively opened her bedroom door, not really looking forward to facing Phillip, or anyone else for that matter. So with dragging, plodding footsteps, she crept towards the living room, where Harry's small voice could be heard growing progressively more frustrated.

"That's home!" she heard him insist.

"Harry," came Phillip's patient baritone voice, "it might look a little like your home, but I don't think it is."

"It is home," Harry said emphatically through clenched teeth. The little boy spied Isabelle and ran headlong into her arms. She purposely avoided Phillip's curious gaze.

"I, uh, want to, um, thank you. For watching Harry," she mumbled, staring at the floor.

"No trouble," he replied. A painful silence fell over the room until Harry grabbed Isabelle's hand and dragged her to the couch where Phillip had a large book opened beside him.

"Look, Aunt Is-belle!" the toddler exclaimed proudly, jabbing at the page. "Home!"

Isabelle humored her nephew and dutifully leaned over him to examine the estate. Her eyes widened as a surprised laugh escaped her lips. "Well, I'll be damned..."

"Aunt Is-belle!" Harry breathed, scandalized. "Only Uncle Sir-us says that. It's a bad word."

"Yes, a very bad word that I learned from your Uncle Sirius. It's his fault," she smirked.

"I know. Daddy said not to learn words from you or Uncle Sir-us."

"Say what?" Isabelle completely forgot Phillip was in the room as she directed her full attention to Harry.

"Yeah, Daddy said that you taught Gracie bad words," Harry whispered quietly.

"I did not!" she defended herself. "Well, maybe a few. But she learned the really bad ones from Sirius, thank you very much. Anyway, I'll watch my mouth from now on, all right?"

"No. I want to learn bad words, too," he pleaded with large, hopeful green eyes. Isabelle tilted her head and thought of a fairly tame 'bad' word to teach Harry. The puppy-dog stare always worked on her.

"Ok, here's one. When people are stupid, you can call them a git," she instructed him.

"Git," Harry repeated with an evil grin, turning to Phillip. "Well, you're a git 'cause you said that wasn't home."

For his part, Phillip pretended to be duly insulted. He looked at Isabelle questioningly. "Is that really--"

"It's home," she said simply, staring at the picture of her childhood home in his British history textbook. "But, why would it be there? How odd."

"Because it's a historic English country estate," Phillip explained, trying to sound halfway intelligent. Unfortunately for him, he always seemed to lose the use of his brain when Isabelle was nearby. She sat down on the sofa and looked at the glossy page, fascinated.

"Go figure," she shrugged. "But, this picture's really old."

"Pardon?" Phillip stammered out, nearly kicking himself for sounding like such a blundering idiot. Luckily, Isabelle didn't seem to notice. She settled Harry in her lap while studying the picture more closely.

"See, look at the trees here," she pointed, lapsing into the rolling English accent of the Dover area. "They're much shorter than I remember. I used to climb them all the time, so I should know."

"You were a tomboy?" Philip asked, completely shocked. To his further surprise, she tilted her head back in a roaring, carefree laugh.

"Oh, gosh, yes. From the time I could walk, I spent most of my time outside playing in the grounds. Mum used to call me her little monkey because I loved to climb everything," she recalled.

"Monkey?" he parroted, fighting back a snicker. Monkey was the very last word he would've ever thought to describe Isabelle with.

"Moncaí, actually. Sounds prettier in Gaelic, doesn't it?"

"That it does," Phillip agreed. He found it odd that Isabelle automatically assumed that he knew her true identity, as if there was no need to maintain pretenses. As if reading his mind, and she most likely was, she turned to him with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry. I'm not who I said I was," she offered, unconsciously clenching and unclenching her hands. "But, you knew all along, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

Isabelle nodded slowly, sitting silently for a full minute before speaking again. "I told Severus that moving back here was a mistake. Too risky, but did he listen to me? No, of course not. Then again, he didn't exactly expect me to go babbling off to a random one-night stand. Or make friends with said one-night stand's sister. Or to run away, sort of kidnap my nephew, and bring him back here. Or--"

"Enough already," Phillip interrupted her, stung at how coldly she continued to treat him. As calmly as he could, he gathered up his books and stood to leave. "Well, this random one-night stand has to study for his British history exam tomorrow afternoon."

"Phillip--" she began, realizing how awful her words must've sounded to him.

"Goodnight, Isabelle. Severus should be home in an hour with Jake and Thomas. Please tell them that I'll be in the library if they need me," he said in a tight voice, which softened slightly when he looked at Harry. "And goodnight to you, too, Harry."

"'Night," Harry chirped, waving as Phillip Disapparated with a loud crackle.

"I really messed up this time," Isabelle sighed ruefully.

-----

For the tenth time in three minutes, Isabelle pushed up the sleeve of her heavy winter cloak and checked the time on her watch. She adjusted Harry on her hip and resumed pacing in front of the history building where Phillip was taking his examination. It seemed like an eternity passed before he walked through the heavy wooden doors and walked right past her without saying a word.

"Phillip, wait!" she called out.

He took a few more steps, then stopped, and turned around with his jaw set. When he didn't say anything, Isabelle hurried to close the gap between them while adopting her most winning smile. Harry squirmed to be let down, so she gently placed him on the sidewalk.

"Be careful, love. The walk is slippery," she warned her nephew before directing her conversation to Phillip. "So, um, how was your exam?"

"Long. Boring. Over," he replied shortly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"I'm sure." The sarcasm practically oozed from his words. "Don't you have somewhere to be, like school?"

"Snow day," Isabelle shrugged. "Listen, I'm honestly sorry about last night. Sometimes I say things without thinking. Actually, I do that a lot of the time. Please forgive me?"

Phillip raised an eyebrow at her hopeful expression. "Sure. So, how'd things go last night?"

"Awful. Severus hit the roof when he saw Harry." Her shoulders slumped.

"Not good, huh?"

"To say the least. Severus plans to take Harry back to Petunia's tonight after he goes to sleep. He can't do that!" A tear streaked down her face, as she stepped closer to Phillip and stared into his deep blue eyes. "I can't let him take Harry away."

"But, what can you do?" he wondered. Isabelle smiled charmingly and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Well, for some reason, Severus likes you. I think he'd listen if you talked to him for me. I would definitely make it worth your while..." She leaned over and softly kissed him. "I'm sure we could reach an understanding."

Phillip's face twisted in controlled rage as he roughly removed her arms from his neck and pushed her away from him. "Understand this: I'm not for sale."

"Wait!" she cried, running after him and blocking his path.

"No, thank you. I don't know what on earth you had to do to survive--"

"More than you'll ever know," Isabelle said in a tight, steely voice. For a split second, her composure melted away, showing the frightened little girl underneath a brave facade. "I'm not proud of everything I've done."

"Well, neither am I. But, for what it's worth, you meant something more to me than a, how did you put it? Random one-night stand. You know what?" He gestured wildly. "I actually _cared_ about you. Stupid me, considering that you just used me and when you didn't need a distraction anymore, you tossed me aside like a piece of trash."

Isabelle swallowed, trying not to cry. She tried focusing on the falling snowflakes while thinking of a response. "That's not true."

"Liar. Hell, I'm such an idiot that I believed your apology. But, you're not sorry about anything other than not getting your way. I'm through with you, Isabelle. I've spent enough of my life worrying about you. It's obvious that you'll do anything to survive."

"Please," she pleaded. "Harry deserves so much better than Petunia."

"Who says you're an improvement? Goodbye."

Phillip stormed off in disbelief, feeling like a prize fool for falling for such a selfish, unfeeling girl.

-----

Phillip sat at the kitchen table at his parents' house, blankly staring at a page filled with messy, haphazard notes that were barely legible. He'd retreated to the quiet safety of his childhood home under the excuse of needing to do laundry, which was not a lie, but not the entire truth, either. Honestly, he couldn't stand being in the apartment, because everywhere reminded him of Isabelle in some form or fashion.

So he brought over a load of dirty clothes, a bookbag crammed full of notebooks and texts, and a mind overburdened with emotional baggage. And like he had hoped, no one asked questions or wondered why he was there stuffing the washer and spreading out his papers on the table. Even Brittany, who knew what bothered him, stayed far away, holed up in her room.

He vaguely heard a light rapping at the dining room window, which grew increasingly louder and more frantic. The window creaked open slightly, causing Phillip's body to tense up and placed his senses on full alert. He reached for his wand and silently crept to the open doorway separating the two rooms when he heard a whisper.

"Brittany? Brit, are you there?" came a female voice that sounded slightly familiar.

"Told you it was one window down," another voice whispered. Isabelle. Phillip knew her lilting accent anywhere. "Anyway, I told you this was a bad idea. Let's get out of here."

"And go where?" Sarah Lindsay asked sensibly. "You don't want to go back home, and we're certainly not going to my apartment. We could go to Dad's place, but you're not talking to Jake, so that's out, as well as Thomas' place. Where else do we have to go?"

"Anywhere but here," Isabelle pleaded.

"Yeah, well, it's raining and I'm tired. So get your bony butt inside already. We'll dry off, have a nice cup of hot chocolate, and maybe watch some TV. You have to catch me up on all the wizard programs, remember?"

"But--"

"What's going on?" Brittany yawned, flicking on a lamp.She took one look at Isabelle, chilled to the bone and chattering, and rushed to the family room to fetch a blanket, nearly knocking over Phillip in the process. "Hey, bring me a blanket."

He attempted to protest, not wanting to get mixed up in any more Isabelle drama, but Brittany disappeared back into the dining room before he could say anything. Sighing, he summoned his personal favorite blanket, knelt beside Isabelle, and kindly wrapped it around her shoulders. Feeling quite magnanimous, he began a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

"Thank you," Isabelle whispered, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"You're welcome," he replied shortly, forcing his feet to walk away from her. He refused to look like a lovesick fool in front of his baby sister and his brother's girlfriend. As he closed the door between the rooms, Phillip made the mistake of looking at Isabelle one last time. Her brokenhearted eyes bore into his.

"He's gone," she said listlessly. "My Harry's gone. Happy now?"

"Ecstatic."

Isabelle emitted a small angry cry at Phillip's sarcastic response, dropped the blanket around her ankles, and threw herself at him. "You'll pay for that, you heartless--"

Sarah Lindsay gasped as Isabelle's body went completely limp. With a wry half-smile, Phillip neatly caught her in his arms before she hit the ground and winked at the other two girls.

"She's just stunned," he explained to a horror-stricken Sarah Lindsay. "I'm thinking she needs to sleep it off."

"Sleep what off? Losing everything she knew in one day? Somehow I doubt that a good night's sleep will--"

"It couldn't hurt," Phillip said firmly, interrupting Sarah Lindsay. "I'll take her home. Want a ride?"

The petite blonde emphatically from side to side. "No, I'd really rather not go home, thank you."

He smiled sympathetically before Apparating with Isabelle to the apartment complex. Eager to be rid of her, he rushed through the hallways and curtly knocked on her apartment door. While he waited for an answer, he wondered how he always became mixed up in Isabelle's problems.

-----

Isabelle angrily kicked a rock down the sidewalk, keeping her gaze downturned as she shuffled home from school. Because of her recent absences, she had to stay late in order to keep up with her schoolwork, especially in home economics. She checked her watch and quickened her pace. Severus expected her home at five o'clock, sharp, and would be angry if she arrived late. 

Part of her didn't really care about Severus' ire. Inside, she felt hollow, deadened, and completely uncaring about the world around her. But she knew that her guardian had the ability to make her life even more miserable, if that was possible. Once she arrived home with Harry, Severus instantly placed her on every restriction imaginable.

Including no more dance lessons. Nothing pierced her very core as much as having the one stable thing in her life taken from her. She longingly pictured her Sugar Plum fairy costume. Telling her instructor that she could no longer be in the Nutcracker broke her heart.

When she arrived at the apartment complex, she dropped her heavy bookbag and winter coat. Using the railing as a barre, she stretched out and began dancing her solo. She lost herself in an imaginary world of beauty, and dance, until a pair of hands stopped her mid-arabesque.

"What do you want?" she seethed crossly, staring at an overly cheery Phillip. "Well? Are you going to say something, or just stun me again like last night?"

"Haven't decided," he shrugged. "Hey, come with me for a minute? There's something I want to show you."

"There's nowhere I want to go with you, Phillip Spence. Ever. And please don't speak to me again. The very sight of you disgusts me." She turned up her nose haughtily.

"Fine, I'll make you a deal. One minute of your time; that's all I ask. And after that, if you want me to, I'll never bother you again. How's that?"

Isabelle crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "You have exactly one minute before I'm late for my curfew. So make it quick."

"All right." Phillip walked up the stairs to the second floor, leading her to her own apartment door. "After you."

"You want to show me something in my own apartment?"

"Yes," he said simply.

She frowned, but opened the front door, planning to kick him out immediately and barricade herself in her room for the rest of the evening. To that end, she stormed past Severus and into her bedroom. She stopped mid-stride and stared. A tiny figure lay sleeping on the bed, covered by her sister Lily's old patchwork quilt.

"Is that--" Isabelle gasped, falling to her knees beside the bed and tenderly brushing a stray lock of hair from Harry's peaceful face. She turned around, brightly smiling at Severus, who was hovering in the hallway. "Oh, thank you. Thank you so much."

"Thank him." Severus nodded his head towards Phillip.

"I don't understand," she puzzled, standing up.

"Last night, after he brought you home, that is, we had a bit of a talk, Phillip and I," Severus rambled. "And I realized that maybe I'd been a bit harsh with you."

"A bit?" Isabelle snorted, as her guardian sheepishly looked at the floor. She rather enjoyed this side of him, seeing him lose his carefully guarded composure.

"A bit," Severus repeated. "Truth is, you're a good kid. And if you want a holiday with your nephew, well, that's not so unrealistic, considering. That is, if you're willing to play by the rules from now on."

She threw her arms around him. "Oh, I will! I promise. I'll be a model of responsibility. Oh, Severus, thank you!"

"It's only until the New Year. And just this year," he warned, in a serious tone. "And you're still on restriction."

Isabelle grinned like a Cheshire cat as Severus made a hasty retreat. Underneath his caustic exterior, he was a softie, and she knew it. She rushed back to Harry, sitting beside him on the bed, debating what she should say to Phillip exactly.

"Thank you," she said hesitantly, looking at him through inquisitive eyes. He nodded, looking equally uncomfortable. "Not a problem. Merry Christmas, Isabelle."

"Happy Christmas," she replied, biting her lip as he turned to leave. "Phillip, wait? Can we talk?"

"You don't owe me anything. Just take care of yourself, ok?"

"Why'd you do this?" she wondered quietly. Phillip paused, and looked her squarely in the eyes.

"You're the first real friend Brittany's ever had," he explained. "My sister wasn't exactly popular at Spotswood, and it always made me mad when people made fun of her. You stood up for her. So, one good turn deserves another."

Isabelle blinked indignantly, standing up and getting in Phillip's face angrily. "I stood up for her because she's an amazing person. That's what friends do where I come from, and I don't need a reward for it. Brit's friendship is more than enough. So bugger off already."

"Bugger off?" The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. "What on earth does that mean? Speak English."

"I _am_ speaking English."

"American, then."

"In context," Isabelle said in her best teaching-style voice, "the phrase 'bugger off' meant to take your lovely noble words and shove them where the sun don't shine while retreating to your disgusting hovel of an apartment, taking your noble high horse with you."

"Brilliant translation. I thank you, ma'am, and on that note, my high horse and I will take our leave." He affected a low bow.

She smiled shyly, shuffling her feet. "You can stay for a while if you like, as long as the high horse leaves. I like you a lot better without it. It's almost time for tea, if you'd like to stay."

"Tea?" he frowned, pretending not to understand.

"Dinner," she giggled.

"I can't, but how about a raincheck?" Phillip asked slowly, a plan forming in his mind. "For, say, tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"Great, I'll pick you up at seven. Be sure to wear your dancing shoes."

"What do you mean?" Her eyes flew open, wondering what he'd tricked her into.

"You're my date for the soccer banquet tomorrow. It's this huge dinner party, but you're used to those things, being related to the Potters and all," he said innocently, as she fell straight into his trap.

"But--"

"Yeah, you're right," Phillip interrupted. "It'd probably bore you. And I'd already have a date, but I've been so busy studying and looking for you...But, it's no big deal. I'll go alone."

Isabelle felt absolutely terrible, realizing how her recent actions had negatively impacted people's lives. "No, I'd be honored to go with you," she said quietly, wanting to make amends for being so selfish. "But I thought you hated me."

"Likewise," he admitted, dropping his bravado.

"I don't hate you. I hate myself when I'm around you." Her shoulders slumped sadly, as her voice dropped to a whisper. "You bring out the worst in me, and I don't know why. Maybe it's because I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?" His heart thumped wildly, skipping a few beats as he waited for her nearly inaudible answer.

"Of you."

"Don't be. I won't hurt you again. Isabelle--" his voice trailed off, catching in his throat.

"Yes?"

"I'll see you tomorrow," Phillip said hastily, Disapparating before saying something foolish, like that he loved her.

-----

"Are you sure that you can babysit Harry tonight?" Isabelle asked Sarah Lindsay for the tenth time, looking concerned. She dearly loved her nephew, but he was quite a handful. Especially after being forced to 'behave' for Petunia for so long.

"Yes," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "We're going to have fun tonight, aren't we, Harry?"

The little boy looked up from a picture book he was idly flipping through. "Yup. Hot chocolate."

"That's right. We're going with Thomas for hot chocolate. What else are we doing?" Sarah Lindsay asked, impressed with his memory.

"Shopping for Aunt Is-belle's present. And looking at pretty lights," he rattled off. "You can't come, Aunt Is-belle. Present is a surprise. Where are you going?"

"On my very first real American date," she replied apprehensively. "I'm going to dinner with Phillip."

Harry sat up and crawled into Isabelle's lap. "He thinks you're the prettiest girl ever."

"Does he now?" Isabelle laughed. "And how do you know that?"

"He told me," Harry said, with a surprisingly wicked grin, considering his age. "You tattletale!" she exclaimed, tickling her nephew until he was nearly out of breath. "Was that a secret?"

Sarah Lindsay snorted. "Oh, come on. I think everyone knows how poor Phillip feels about you. He's pathetic. The question is, how do you feel about him?"

"It's complicated."

"What's so complicated? You're single, he's single. You've already, well, you know..."

"Exactly!" Isabelle exclaimed. "What if he has, um, expectations? Because he and I, that was a really random, stupid thing to do, and I'm just not ready for that sort of relationship. Not right now, anyway. But why else would he ask me out if he didn't want to..."

"You're overanalyzing. Just get ready, go out, have a good time, and take things one step at a time," her friend said soothingly.

Isabelle flopped on her bed dramatically, propping her head up on her left elbow. "See, there's um, another problem. I don't have a party dress."

"I don't believe that!" Sarah Lindsay snorted. "As many clothes as you have? Please."

"No, it's true," she said earnestly, handing Harry a stuffed panda bear to play with.

"You don't have a single dress? Nothing at all suitable?"

"Only one. But, Phillip's seen it before," Isabelle sighed, walking to her closet. She reached into the very back, pulling out an iridescent coral ballgown. After freshening and pressing the delicate fabric with a few flicks of her wand, she hung it up on the front of the closet door. "So, what do you think?"

Sarah Lindsay whistled through her teeth. "That's _gorgeous_. Who cares if he's seen it before? Besides, boys don't remember that stuff anyway. Bet you have matching shoes and everything."

"Yeah. They were a gift." _From Sirius_, she thought.

"From Uncle Sir-us," Harry exclaimed, bouncing the bear up and down on the bed. Isabelle eyed her nephew warily.

"Yes, and do you know who gave me this wrap?" she asked, wrapping a heavy beaded scarf around Harry playfully.

"Mummy?" he guessed, his fingers immediately reaching for the beaded tassels.

"Nope," Isabelle answered merrily, styling the wrap like a turban around his small head. "Your daddy did. To say he was sorry for being a git."

"Why was he bad?" Harry looked horrified.

"He wasn't _bad_, love. Just...being a stupid male."

"Oh, now I have to hear this story." Sarah Lindsay raised an eyebrow.

"It's a long story," Isabelle shrugged.

"Excuse me? I've been a really good sport about this you-being-someone-supposedly-dead thing. All I'm asking for is one little, teeny story about your family. Is that too much to ask, to tell your bestest friend ever--"

"Ok! You win!" Isabelle practically screamed, covering her ears with her hands. Sarah Lindsay grinned triumphantly, sitting back on the pillows and folding her hands in her lap.

"Good. Now get to talking."


	16. Chapter 14: Manners

**Chapter 14: Manners**

"Well, my sister Lily is--" her voice paused, "was, the most amazing person _ever_. Growing up, I wanted to be just like her. Everything about her was completely brill."

"Wait," Sarah Lindsay interrupted, "don't you have two sisters?"

"Unfortunately," Isabelle replied darkly. "And according to Petunia, Lily and I are rotten branches on the family tree. There's a reason why I'm here, in America, instead of with my sister. Petunia's horrid. Isn't that right, Harry?"

"Yup," he chirped. "Love you, Aunt Is-belle."

"Love you too. Anyway, during my fifth year at Hogwarts--"

"Two years ago, right?" Sarah Lindsay cut in.

"Are you going to let me tell this story, or not?" Isabelle huffed, exasperated. "Yes, it was two years ago, and Lily surprised me at the train station in Hogsmeade..."

_"__Isabelle!" Lily called out after her sister, watching her blonde ponytail bob about fifteen feet ahead of her. "Isabelle Rose, wait up!" _

_At the sound of her full name, the teenager whipped around, a pleasantly shocked look on her face. She happily dashed to her sister and engulfed Lily in a wild hug. "Lily, what are you doing here? I thought you were meeting me in London." _

_"__Surprise," Lily grinned. "Thought we could spend the day shopping in town. That is, if you don't have any other plans..." _

_"__Really?" Isabelle squealed, barely concealing her excitement. _

_"__Really. The men are on baby patrol today, and I told them not to expect us until late. It's been an eternity since I've had a girl's day." Lily's face drooped slightly, and Isabelle instantly knew that she was thinking of Regina. _

_"__I'm sorry." She ruins everything, and she's dead, Isabelle thought crossly. Her sister raised an amused eyebrow. _

_"__Is that right?" _

_"__I didn't mean it like that," Isabelle blurted out, horrified. "I mean, all of you must still be shattered, it being the first holidays without her and all. And--" _

_Lily laughed, completely amused as her sister stumbled over her words. "It's all right. And no, I'm not shopping with you because I don't have anyone else to go with. I have other friends. I want to spend the day with you." _

"Ouch," Sarah Lindsay sympathized.

"Tell me about it. I felt like such a thoughtless idiot," Isabelle sighted. "Wait a minute. How could your sister read your mind?"

Oh, snot, she thought. "She didn't, silly. I must've accidentally mumbled it underneath my breath."

"Ok...."

Isabelle quickly began the story again to shut Sarah Lindsay up, feeling stupid for mentioning mindreading. Luckily her friend was still pretty ignorant about the wizarding world, so Isabelle could cover her tracks easily.

_"__So, who are you going with to the Christmas party?" Lily asked curiously, pausing to take a sip of tea. Isabelle thoughtfully chewed her sandwich before answering. _

_"__No one." _

_"__Nobody? I thought you were dating what's-his-face from Ravenclaw? The Indian boy." _

_"__Half-Indian, half-Veela. And his name is Andrew." _

_"__Half-Veela, huh?" Lily's green eyes twinkled mischievously. "No wonder you got caught in the prefects' bathroom doing--" _

_"__Lily!" Isabelle was scandalized, her usually pale face bright red. "I can't believe you brought that up – in a public restaurant!" _

_Her sister shrugged casually. "No one's listening, love. Is it true what they say about Veelas?" _

_If looks could kill, Lily Potter would have collapsed to the floor in a lifeless heap. After their heart-to-heart at Halloween, Lily viewed her younger sister through a new perspective. Now, she wasn't afraid to press an issue with Isabelle, even if was just for merriment's sake. _

_"__Aw, come on. You can tell me, woman to woman. I'm honestly curious!" Lily inquired further. _

_"__Well..." she leaned over the table, "yeah." _

_"__And you're being careful?" An undertone of steel tinged her words. Despite viewing Isabelle as more adult than child, Lily still worried about her sister's choices. _

_"__You know we were. Don't worry, I love Harry and Gracie and all, but I can wait a while for one of my own. Which is why I broke it off with Andrew. He wants, well, a serious relationship. And after we talked at Halloween, I decided to take your advice and focus on school for a while. So, no date." _

_Lily inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, there's nothing wrong with that." _

"So there _was_ someone before Phillip," Sarah Lindsay said quietly. "I kinda thought so, but it wasn't my business to ask."

"Two someones." Isabelle stared at the floor nervously. "What about you?"

"Nobody. I'm saving myself for Richard Gere."

"Seriously!" Isabelle swatted her friend with a pillow.

"I'm being serious. Haven't you seen An Officer and a Gentleman?"

"No."

"Good movie. Anyway, no, I've never..."

"Not even with Thomas?" Isabelle asked, surprised.

"Nope. Just not ready."

"I wasn't ready either," she admitted. "It was so stupid. And pretty meaningless. I couldn't messed up my whole life, and for what? For stupid boys who weren't even at my own funeral! Shows how much they cared."

Sarah Lindsay wrapped a supportive arm around Isabelle. "It's pretty messed up to go to your own funeral in the first place. And I think Lily was right. We're way better off doing the school thing and leaving boys the heck alone."

"This is coming from someone with a steady boyfriend?" She put her head down on her friend's shoulder and sighed heavily.

"Who I'd dump in a heartbeat if he came between me and my future. I'm getting out of this place. I might have been born white trash, but I'm not dying that way!"

"I wish I was as focused as you."

"Comes from being a product of an extremely dysfunctional family. But enough of my issues. Weren't you telling a story?"

Isabelle sat up, stuck out her tongue, and continued. "Anyway, we spent the rest of the day shopping for dresses for the party. A couple of days later, I had to try on my dress to make some minor alterations. That's when all hell broke loose."

_"__Are you sure that coral's my color?" Isabelle asked nervously, pirouetting in front of the mirror. "It's a little girly." _

_"__You're a girl, aren't you?" Lily mumbled through a mouthful of pins. _

_"__Yeah, I guess." She narrowed her eyes at her reflection. _

_"__You guess? If you haven't figured it out by now..." _

_"__Hardy-har-har," Isabelle said sardonically. "You know what I meant. I'm not really a pink wearing kind of girl. I'm more like a tree-climbing, outdoorsy kind of girl. It is a pretty dress, though." _

_Lily smiled as she charmed the hemline down about an inch. "A very adult-ish dress." _

_"__It is, isn't it? No more stupid little girl stuff." _

_"__Hey, Lily!" James' voice bellowed from down the hallway. "I need to go out for an hour or two. Can you mind the kids?" _

_"__Going to the pub with your mates, are you?" she screamed back, trying to decide whether the gown needed to be taken in at the waistline. _

_"__Would you say no if I was honest?" came the reply. _

_"__Maybe. Bring the kids in here before you go. And be sure to check their nappies first," Lily called out. "James has a nasty habit of passing off a baby with a dirty diaper. Disgusting." _

_A minute later, James knocked on the partially open door before walking in with Harry in one arm and Gracie in the other. His jaw dropped open in shock when he saw Isabelle. Neither sister noticed his expression until he spoke. "What on earth is she wearing?" he said, putting the babies on Isabelle's bed and pointing at the teenager angrily. _

_"__A ballgown," Lily said calmly, giving her husband a Look. "For the party tomorrow night." _

_James' face flushed bright red as he clenched his fists tightly. "She is not wearing that to the Christmas party. It's not appropriate. She's a kid!" _

_"__Isabelle is a young woman, and it's time we all started treating her as such. She looks lovely." Lily's voice had a razor-sharp edge to it. No one told her how to raise her sister, even James. _

_"__You think I'm nutters, don't you?" he asked as his wife nodded. "I'm not crazy. Hold on for a minute. Hey, Sirius, come up here! I want your opinion on something." _

_"__What?" _

_"__Isabelle's dress," James screamed. At that, Sirius thundered upstairs and peered inside the doorway. _

_"__Okay, nice slip. Where's the rest of the dress?" he asked innocently. _

_"__That is the dress," James replied snidely, waiting for the explosion. _

_"__Oh, hell no!" Sirius pronounced, enunciating each syllable slowly and loudly. "Hell fucking no." _

_Isabelle turned around, staring at him with wide, hurt eyes. "Don't you like it?" _

_"__Where's the back of the dress?" Sirius asked in a high-pitched voice, as if he hadn't heard Isabelle at all. "You're practically naked from the waist up. Practically, nothing. What's that, four pieces of string stuff across the back?" _

_"__Rhinestones. And it's the fashion," Isabelle said defensively. _

_"__Oh, don't pull that one on me. I was married to a fashion designer, so I know what's in style and what's not. And going half-naked to a party is..." _

_"__Tacky," James supplied helpfully. "Especially for a fifteen-year old. Not to mention that scarf you call a dress is so low in the front that it shows well, it shows--" _

_"__Cleavage? News flash to both of you. I'm not a kid anymore. I have hips, and a waist, and – horror of all horrors – cleavage," Isabelle snapped. She didn't know if she was more angry or upset at their reaction. Both men pursed their faces as if they had bit into Lily's cooking. _

_"__You're not just a kid," Sirius snapped back. "You're my kid, and as your guardian, I forbid you from wearing that tomorrow night." _

_"__Yeah, what he said," James agreed, shooting Lily a triumphant look. _

_"__Oh, yeah? Well, in that case, I'm not going to the party. I'll stay here and watch the kids. At least they treat me with some respect." With that, Isabelle ran into her bathroom, charmed the door locked, and cried her eyes out. _

Isabelle sighed, then covered a sleepy-eyed Harry with a thin blanket. "He should be up in an hour or so. Never has slept for very long."

"Why are you changing the subject?" Sarah Lindsay asked, raising a thin eyebrow.

"Because the next bit is...well, about things I haven't told anyone about, except who was around at the time."

"You can trust me."

"I swear, if you _ever_ tell..."

"Oh, please! You only know about a billion more really evil hexes than I do. Remember, I'm still on how to hold a wand properly? Now dish, because I'll be irked if Phillip gets here before I hear the whole story and I have to wait until tomorrow."

"Fine. You're bossy."

"Thank you." She grinned, as Isabelle grimaced before continuing.

_With minute precision, Isabelle soundlessly unlocked the kitchen door and let herself inside. She'd learned how to do so as a young child, preferring the Muggle way to any other method, mostly because it was quicker. Because of her pity party, she missed dinner and was extremely hungry. So, she opened the small bathroom window, repelled down the side of the house, and snuck around to the back door to steal some food, hoping not to get caught. _

_After deciding on a butterbeer and enormous piece of chocolate cake, she sat down at the table to eat and stew. She became so absorbed in thought that she didn't realize someone else was in the room until a large figure sat down across from her and cleared his throat hesitantly. Isabelle feigned deafness and ignored him. _

_For his part, Remus had absolutely no clue about what to say to the girl. Both James and Sirius heard her come in the house, and immediately jumped up to confront her. From what he'd heard of the earlier events of the evening, Remus didn't think that was an especially good idea. Unfortunately that translated into him confronting Isabelle while James and Sirius eavesdropped. _

_"__Hello, Isabelle," he said quietly, watching her chew her cake angrily. She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and wiped away a tear, leaving a chocolate smudge on her face. _

_"__What do you want?" she growled in a low voice. _

_"__You have chocolate on your cheek," he replied, handing her a napkin. _

_"__And you didn't answer the question." _

_"__That's a nice dress you're wearing," Remus said, getting straight to the point. "Are you wearing it to the Christmas party this year?" _

_"__No. I'm not going." _

_"__Well, that's a weird choice of nightwear, but to each their own," he joked, noticing that Isabelle smiled slightly, in spite of herself. "New trend?" _

_"__Ha. Since when do I know what's in style?" she answered listlessly, self-effacingly. She blinked back more tears, not wanting to appear weak. _

_"__Here." Remus slid a handkerchief across the table. "So, why are you skipping the party? Hot date?" _

_"__Not hardly," she sniffled. "And if it was up to James and Sirius, they'd lock me in my room until I died of old age. Besides, you already know why I'm not going. I don't get it! You and Lily both treat me like I'm an adult. Well, adult-ish at least. What's their problem?" _

_"__James is freakishly overprotective and Sirius is completely insane. Any more questions?" _

_Isabelle burst into laughter, shooting butterbeer from her nose in a highly unladylike fashion. "I do love you, Remus. I really do." _

_"__Well, I'm kinda fond of you, too, kid," he winked, setting down his own butterbeer thoughtfully. "All right, can you handle it if I give you my honest, adult opinion?" _

_"__Yes." She stared at him expectantly. _

_"__You need to stop talking at James and Sirius and start talking to them about things. They're never going to see you as anything other than a little girl until you give them reason to believe otherwise. You have a huge chip on your shoulder towards them. Why?" _

_"__It's complicated." _

_"__There's that attitude again." _

_"__Fine. I ruined James' life, ok?" she burst out loudly, not noticing the surprised gasps from the other room. "If it wasn't for me, he and Lily could've had a much better life together. They would've been this nice little family, able to be you know, young and in love. Not teenage parents of a special-needs child. Do you know that they weren't much older than me when they started raising me? What kind of life is that? I'll never, ever be able to make up for that. Not to mention the money." _

_Remus' eyebrows shot up. "What money?" _

_"__Nothing." _

_"__What money?" he repeated, crossing his arms. _

_"__Don't tell Lily?" _

_"__Never." _

_"__James paid Petunia a million pounds sterling if she'd sign over custody of me to Lily," she whispered, just loud enough for Sirius to hear. _

_"__Which is–?" Remus asked, puzzled. _

_"__A little over three hundred thousand, eleven hundred Galleons." _

_"__Holy shit!" _

_"__I know! I've been earning money over the years to pay him back," Isabelle admitted, twisting the napkin into a ball. _

_"__Um, kinda doubting you'll be able to earn that kind of money." _

_"__You'd be surprised," she mumbled underneath her breath, thinking of her secret bank account and the amount of gold in the vault. _

_Because of his heightened senses, Remus heard James and Sirius quietly sneak upstairs into the nursery and begin arguing. So, he turned to Isabelle and asked, "That covers James. What about Sirius?" _

_"__What about him?" she fired back immediately, in an innocent tone. _

_"__Isabelle, you know what I mean. It's pretty obvious." _

_"__To him, too?" she managed to choke out. _

_"__No, I'd definitely say your secret's safe from him," Remus assured her, as she exhaled loudly. "Obvious to the rest of the western world, but not our dear Padfoot." _

"What secret?" Sarah Lindsay leaned forward eagerly, practically shaking with curiosity. Isabelle sighed, and rolled her eyes.

"It's nothing."

"Then why aren't you telling?" She looked like she would burst any second.

"All right, I admit it!" Isabelle lied, hiding a smirk behind her hand, determined to change the subject. "I didn't want him knowing about getting caught with my ex-boyfriend in the Prefect's bathroom."

"Him meaning Sirius Black?" She said the last two words loudly, causing Isabelle to quickly cover Sarah Lindsay's mouth with her hand.

"Shhhh! Don't _ever_ say his name out loud, especially not here."

"Why not?" Sarah Lindsay's eyes filled with tears. "Did I do something wrong? Oh, I am so stupid. I'll never get the hang of this witch thing!"

Isabelle bit her lip, feeling horrible. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. It's just that, um, Harry's uncle is a sore subject in this household. Never bring him up in front of Severus. I can't tell you why, because it's personal and I'm not even supposed to know. But, I'll be in trouble if you do, so please don't?"

"Ok, I won't. I'm sorry." She still appeared ready to cry at the slightest provocation.

"And you'll be a wonderful witch. Honest. So stop being so hard on yourself!"

"That won't happen anytime soon," Sarah Lindsay sniffled, trying to pull herself together. Isabelle passed her a tissue and decided to continue the story. Sometimes changing the subject was far better than dwelling, anyway.

_The next afternoon, James found Isabelle in the nursery rocking Harry. After setting down a large package in the hallway, he walked inside and cleared his throat. She looked up, then back down at the baby, choosing to pretend that James didn't exist. _

_When he didn't leave, she stopped rocking, sat straight up, and said, "What do you want?" _

_"__To talk," he replied evenly, with a disarmingly kind smile. "You're really good with Harry. I really appreciate how much you take care of him when you're on break. Gives Lily and I some, uh--" _

_"__Private time?" she finished devilishly. _

_"__Yeah, that," he said sheepishly. He took out his wand, pulled a chair across the room, and sat down. "I was walking around on lunch break today, and saw something you might like. As thanks for all you do with the kids and all." _

_Isabelle frowned. "If it's a new dress, something little girl-ish, you can just take it back. Because not only did I say that there's no way in this universe that I'm going to the party, I'm definitely not going in something you picked out." _

_"__Fair enough. Look, about yesterday, I'm sorry. What I said was a little out of line. Could you possibly forgive me?" James asked with a hopeful expression. _

_"__Why should I?" she huffed. Harry stirred and yawned. Isabelle began rocking again, so he would fall back asleep. "You really hurt my feelings." _

_"__I know. But I'm sorry! And I bought you a present." He smiled internally, watching her pretend to be disinterested. "Don't you want to see it?" _

_"__Maybe," she considered thoughtfully. _

_James pointed his wand behind him and summoned the large, brightly packaged box to his lap. Isabelle's eyes took in the wide, blue velvet ribbon, her fingers itching to untie the bow. Finally, her curiosity got the best of her. She carefully put Harry down in his crib, and ripped into the box. _

_Inside was the most beautiful wrap Isabelle had ever seen. She sighed happily, pulling out the delicate silk fabric. Large, beaded flowers covered the deep rose scarf, which was surprisingly light for being so richly decorated. The edges of the fabric blended into intricate beaded tassels that shimmered in the fading light. James worried that she didn't like it, because she was so quiet, and leaned forward, concerned. _

_"__If it's not your style, we can always take it back," he suggested. _

_"__Oh, no!" Isabelle exclaimed, hugging the box to her chest possessively. "No, it's gorgeous. I just wouldn't know where I'd where it. It's far too pretty to put with my Hogwarts robes..." _

_"__Well, I was hoping you'd wear it tonight," James said, as her puzzled eyes bore into his. "To the party. Every lady needs the proper accessories to her dress, right?" _

_"__I'm hardly a lady," she mumbled, blushing. _

_"__No, but you're getting there. Isabelle, I'd like to make a deal with you. If you'd be willing to wear the wrap with your dress tonight, I promise not to be a total jerk about you growing up." _

_She seriously considered his compromise. "Maybe." _

_"__Well, think about it? I'm sorry I'm not dealing well with you not being little anymore. If it makes you feel better, it's not just about you with 'cleavage and a waist', as you put it. It's about feeling useless," James confessed, leaning his chair backwards. _

_"__I don't understand." _

_"__When you were little, you were pretty needy," he said slowly, trying to choose his words carefully. "Being needed makes you feel important. And now that you don't need me, since you've grown so independent, I feel useless. You used to come running with all your problems, but now? This is the longest conversation we've had in a while." _

_Isabelle's eyes stung. She didn't realize how much James really cared. "I still need you. Just not the same way." _

_"__Really?" he asked, unable to hide his surprise. _

_"__Yeah. Want to play Quidditch for a few? I have some time before I have to get ready." _

_"__Sure," he replied, as they smiled shyly at each other. _

Isabelle quickly pulled on the gown and deftly charmed the rhinestone strings together while trying to decide whether to wear her hair up, or down. It had grown nearly a foot since the last time she had worn the dress. Perhaps, if she wore her up, or at least differently, Phillip might not notice that it was the exact same outfit as the night they met.

"That is so weird," Sarah Lindsay said, watching Isabelle sift through her hair clips.

"What?" she asked, distractedly, deciding on her favorite sapphire and platinum clip.

"The charming your dress shut thing. I don't think I'll ever get used to this magic thing."

Isabelle laughed. "Oh, you will, trust me. I'll have to teach you all the little tricks my sister showed me. You'll never want to get dressed the Muggle way again."

"Holy cow," Sarah Lindsay whistled, as Isabelle fixed her hair into a series of cascading curls. "Where did you get that from? Are those real sapphires?"

"That they are. It was a gift from my sister a long, long time ago," she explained, looking at her reflection with satisfaction. She carefully unwrapped her shoes, pausing for a minute to admire them.

"Oh! What about the shoes? How did you get those?"

"Well," Isabelle began...

_"__Um, hello?" Isabelle heard Sirius hesitantly call out through her closed bedroom door. "Are you in there?" _

_"__Yes," she replied shortly, unwilling to talk to him. _

_"__May I come in?" _

_"__I guess." _

_Focused on fastening her earrings, she didn't notice the brief cloud of sadness that overtook Sirius' face when he first saw her, dressed for the party. "You look beautiful, Isabelle." _

_Her knees weakened and she clutched the edge of her dresser for support. Whirling around, she breathed, "Do you really think so?" _

_"__I do," he nodded. "Do you have time to talk for a minute?" _

_"__I don't have time to listen to you rant and rave about me being a child," she said, raising her chin defiantly. Sirius smiled sheepishly and leaned against the doorjamb. _

_"__Then I can be straight with you then," he said evenly. "Isabelle, this year, these past few years, really, have been very hard on me." _

_"__I know," she said softly, her heart aching as his eyes blinked back a tear. She desperately wanted to comfort him, but she willed herself to sit on the bed, instead. _

_"__Everyone I love, I lose. I don't want to lose you, too," he burst out in a choked voice. _

_"__Oh, Sirius, you'll never lose me, ever!" Isabelle swore, meaning every syllable with every fiber of her being. _

_He began pacing the room, agitated. "I am losing you, Belle. You're my little girl, and you're not so little anymore. Just like everyone else, you're going to leave me." _

_"__I'll never leave you," she whispered through tears. "Ever." _

_"__Yes, you will," he insisted. "It's only a matter of time. I mean, look at you. One of these days you'll notice one of those stupid boys who follow you around all the time, and you'll go off with him. And, that's all right, I guess. You're supposed to grow up, but it seems so sudden. I wish you could be little forever, and that's selfish, because that way, I'm not getting older, either." _

_Isabelle didn't know how to reply to that, so she simply said, "I see." _

_"__I'll end up like my father, alone and bitter," Sirius concluded softly, slumping his shoulders dejectedly. _

_"__No you won't! Your father is mean, and awful! You're nothing like him," she burst out without thinking. "You'll find someone else, right? Gracie does need a mother." _

_He stopped mid-stride and turned around, surprised that she would say something so forward. "Belle, a very wise person once gave me a talk about love. I don't know what you've done or haven't done, and frankly, I don't really want to. But when I was your age, I was a little on the irresponsible side. One day, this wise person had a talk with me about the stupid things I was doing. At the time, I didn't believe what I heard, but it's true." _

_"__What's that?" she asked, curiously. _

_"__That it makes all the difference in the world when you're with someone you really care about. Once you've been with someone like that, you just can't go back to meaningless relationships. Love's worth waiting for, Belle. I really loved Regina, and now that she's gone, I can't see myself with anyone else. Not unless I love that woman as much as I loved my wife." _

_"__But it is possible, right?" Isabelle inquired hopefully. _

_"__I don't see how," Sirius answered honestly. "I don't know if I could love anyone that way again. But anyway, that doesn't have anything to do with you, so don't worry about it, okay? Don't worry about me." _

_"__But--" _

_"__But nothing. I didn't come here to bother you with my problems." _

_"__You're never a problem to me." Isabelle felt frustrated. Why couldn't he see that he was her business? That she wanted nothing more than to make him happy? Why wouldn't he give her a chance to try to make him happy? _

_He smiled. "Likewise. I picked up something for your outfit tonight, to apologize for being a selfish jerk. And no, I'm not trying to buy your affection. It's my way of admitting that you're growing up and I need to get over that. So, could you forgive me?" _

_"__Always." _

"So, he bought you the shoes?" Sarah Lindsay concluded, careful not to speak his name aloud.

"He did," Isabelle said, right as she heard a knock at the door. "I guess that's Phillip. You'll owl me if something goes wrong tonight? I'll be home early, promise."

Her friend rolled her eyes and practically pushed her out of the bedroom. "Take your time. Go, already. Have fun."

"Ha," she snorted, walking through the apartment and opening the front door.

Phillip stared at her, absolutely dumbfounded. Never, in his wildest dreams, did he expect to see her to look so beautiful. Her hair delicately framed her oval face, and tumbled down her shoulders, creating a soft, feminine look. Usually Isabelle appeared quite causal and sporty, but tonight, she was all elegance, the dress showing off her slender figure to perfection.

"Will this do?" she asked, feeling insecure since he hadn't commented on her appearance. Perhaps she was underdressed, or out of style.

"Do? Isabelle, in that dress, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he said, turning slightly pink and shoving his hands in his suit pockets embarrassingly.

"Good, because it's the only party dress I own," she admitted, as he helped her into her coat.

"What? A socialite like you? I don't believe it for a second."

"Believe it," Isabelle insisted, following Phillip to his car. "I was hardly a socialite. My sister, maybe. Regina, definitely. But, I'm more of a homebody. Well, I was."

He opened her car door, causing her to deeply frown as he took care not to catch her gown in the door. She promised to be his date for the evening, but apparently he didn't trust her. Why else would he feel the need to help her in the car, other than to charm the door so she couldn't run away?

She had hoped for an amicable, perhaps even pleasant evening, but those hopes died with the knowledge that he had no faith in her word. Her irritation grew when Phillip helped her from the car, and opened the lobby door of the Williamsburg Inn for her. She barely noticed the picturesque lobby through her angry, slitted eyes.

"What's the matter?" Phillip asked, cluelessly puzzled as to her odd behavior.

"You, you, horrible jerk," Isabelle stuttered in a forced whisper. "How dare you treat me this way and then have the nerve to ask what's the matter?"

"What did I do?" He took a small step back as she fumed, wondering what British etiquette rule he had violated. Whatever it was, it truly offended her, and he felt stupid and country.

"Charming the doors shut behind me so that I can't leave. Look, I promised you that I'd be your date. My word's enough, and it makes me mad that you don't trust me enough to do a simple favor. And to think, I thought tonight might actually be a little fun!"

The corners of Phillip's eyes crinkled up, and he cleverly disguised a laughing fit as a short cough. "You think," cough, "Isabelle, try the door."

"Fine." She marched to the lobby door, and to her great surprise, it swung open easily. Confused, she stood in the doorway. "I don't understand."

"Well, you make an awfully pretty doorman." Phillip couldn't hide his amusement any longer. "Come here, let's sit down for a minute."

He guided her to a small sofa in a corner of the lobby and explained, "I _do_ trust you, Isabelle. By now, you should know that. I don't know how things are done where you're from, but here, when a guy's on a date with a girl, he does stuff like open doors."

"Why? I can open my own doors. I'm not weak or helpless." She looked hopelessly confused. Phillip thought for a minute. He'd never really questioned it before.

"I don't know why other guys do it, but I was raised to treat women with respect," he said slowly, thoughtfully. "It's just a sign of respect, that's all. No way I'd ever think you're weak or helpless."

Isabelle blushed and wanted to crawl underneath the couch. "Oh. I feel so stupid."

"Don't. And for the record, I plan on making sure tonight's fun," he said boldly, standing up and automatically offering his hand to help her up. Determined to be ladylike despite her ignorance, she took his hand, stood, and impulsively decided to continue holding it as they headed towards the banquet hall.


	17. Chapter 15: A Clear View

**Chapter 15: A Clear View**

Isabelle smiled at Phillip as they effortlessly danced around the floor. She knew they made a stunning couple, and she took great pride in that her date was easily the best-looking man there. Muggle clothes suited him, she decided, discreetly admiring his charcoal grey suit. Most of Phillip's teammates opted for basic black or navy, but she was glad he picked a slightly lighter color. Not to mention that he was an excellent dancer, which puzzled her.

"Phillip?"

"Hmm?" He smiled down at her.

"Where did you learn to dance?" she asked sweetly, as his jaw tightened slightly.

"Here and there. Parties, mostly."

"Ha! You're a liar, Phillip Spence. There's no way you learned how to move like that at redneck keg parties. Now, are you going to tell me the truth," she paused and worked up several crocodile tears, "or, did you not mean it when you said you trusted me?"

Horrified that he was about to make her cry, his eyes opened wide and he quickly pleaded, "Please don't cry? I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to laugh. Or tell anyone."

"I promise," she sniffled.

"Well, you know that I started playing soccer after I broke my arm playing Quidditch, right?" he practically whispered, pausing as she nodded. "I was a natural striker, but I was so clumsy that I'd keep accidentally fouling people. So my coach talked me into taking dance lessons."

"Dance lessons?" Isabelle repeated, more loudly than she planned. "You took ballet?"

"Shhh!" Phillip hissed, his face redder than the Christmas decorations.

"That explains it," she said to herself.

"Explains what?" he grumped.

"The way you hold me," she said shyly, staring at his shoulder. "So strong, but really quite--" her voice broke off as she worked up the nerve to finish the sentence, "gentle. Like you know what you're doing. It's just...nice. I think I'm going to shut up now."

Isabelle buried her head in between his neck and shoulder, which Phillip used as an opportunity to pull her even closer to him. When she didn't protest, or move away, he rested his head on top of hers, and idly twisted a curl around his finger as they swayed to the music. He couldn't help replacing the curl with one of the shiny rhinestone strings across the back of her dress. The last time she wore it, her wrap hid the nearly backless nature of the gown, something he considered an absolute crime.

"Maybe I should introduce you to some of my teammates," Phillip said, after several minutes. Isabelle shook her head and snuggled up to him, closing the remaining space between them.

"Can we just dance? I'm very shy," she admitted, intimidated by the idea of meeting a roomful of strangers. She looked up, her green eyes begging him to understand.

"Sure," he agreed softly. "I guess it's pretty hard, being in a new place and all. I wouldn't know. I've lived here my whole life, so I'm sorry if I'm being insensitive."

Isabelle smiled at his earnest expression, realizing that she was falling for Phillip Spence. "No, it's not just that. I've always been shy. When I was a little girl, I used to hide underneath the table during formal parties."

"You didn't," he laughed, trying to keep his eyes from straying downward too far. The way she pressed against him pulled the bodice of her dress down, giving him a very nice view. He was determined to prove he was a gentleman, however, so he was afraid to mention it for fear that she would get upset. So, he pretended not to notice.

"I so did. Mummy P, that was James' mum," she explained, "would charm the tablecloth so I could see out, but no one could see me. I'd sit under there all night and people watch. Eventually, I'd fall asleep and James would carry me home. Then, Lily wouldn't let me do that anymore after I went to Hogwarts. I had to be a 'proper lady'."

"Bummer."

"No joke. But luckily, by then, I had Bill to pal around with. Remember him, the redhead you though was my boyfriend?" Isabelle teased with a playful smile.

"How could I forget? But come on, you spent the whole night with him, except the occasional dance with other guys. What was I supposed to think?"

"Maybe you should've been thinking about your girlfriend instead," she replied lightly, but with a razor-sharp edge to her voice.

Phillip blanched slightly and gently cupped Isabelle's chin in his hand. "After I saw you walk into the room, she was the last thing on my mind. Has been ever since that night, I swear. This probably isn't the right time or place to say this, but I'm crazy about you. Ask anyone. I nearly went insane when I thought you died. Kind of stupid, since I'm sure you didn't remember me from Adam."

"That's not true," she protested, feeling guilty because he obviously didn't make as large of an impression on her as she did on him. He grinned crookedly, the smile lighting up his entire face.

"Would you like to go somewhere and talk? Maybe take a drive? There are some crazy Christmas lights around town," he suggested, subconsciously holding his breath.

"Yeah, I'd like that."

Isabelle wondered what his intentions were, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, she really loved tacky light displays. This time, when Phillip opened the door with a smirk and a flourish, she laughed and threatened to hex his face like that permanently. He sat down in the driver's side seat, turned the car on, and turned to face her.

"I was wondering, that is," he began, stopping to take a deep breath. "I meant it when I said I'm crazy about you. I don't know how to say this other than to just say it. Look, I know I blew it with you once. Would you give me another chance?"

"What?" She stared at Phillip as if he'd lost his mind.

"Please," he pleaded.

"What on earth do you want me for?" Isabelle snorted. "You've made it pretty clear how little you think of me."

"You propositioned me!"

She choked a small sob back and buried her head in her hands. "I didn't have a choice. I needed help, and I didn't think you'd help me any other way. I was desperate to keep Harry, and I thought that maybe if you talked to him, I could--"

"Oh, Isabelle." Phillip reached across the center console, and held her as tightly as the awkwardness of the car would allow. "You didn't have to offer me favors to get me to help you out. I helped you for nothing, remember?"

"But, why? What do you want from me?" she cried into his dress coat.

"For you to stop living this way. Isabelle, are, um, are you in some sort of trouble? Is someone hurting you?"

"N-no. No one's hurting me. But, you got so mad at me! Why would you want to go out with me after that?"

Phillip sat up and wiped the tears from her face while looking her straight in the eyes and saying, "I wasn't mad at you, not really. What I was mad at, furious actually, is that you'd think that the only way to get ahead is to sell yourself. The only way I figure that you'd get that idea is if someone hurt you pretty badly. Is that true?"

"Maybe," she offered, beginning to tremble uncontrollably.

"Hey, it's all right," he repeated soothingly, over and over, until she calmed down somewhat. "Whatever happened, it's all right. Don't worry, I won't push you to talk about it. It's just that I want to make something perfectly clear."

"What's that?" she asked, her face red, swollen and blotched with tears.

"Whatever you had to do to get here, alive, I won't ever hold against you. That's in the past now. It's over. Want to know something?" He barely waited for her to nod before continuing, in a choked voice, "Isabelle, you're worth more than you give yourself credit for. If you give me another chance, I promise I'll treat you like you deserve."

"Wouldn't your mates make fun of you for having a girlfriend in high school?" she wondered.

"Yeah, until they saw what a knockout you are," Phillip joked. "Seriously, though, who cares what other people think? I don't. People can mind their own damn business and leave us to ours."

A smile spread across Isabelle's face. "All right, let's give it a go, then."

-----

Isabelle circled the parking lot at St. Bede's Catholic Church for the third time, impatiently drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. If she didn't find a parking space soon, she might be late to Mass. And considering that this was Harry's first Midnight Mass, she wanted to be on time. Frustrated, she gave up, parked across the street in the William and Mary parking lot, and Apparated inside the church with Harry.

"Oooh, pretty," he breathed, clapping his hands together in awe at the brightly decorated church. "Look, Aunt Is-belle, pretty tree."

"That is a pretty tree," she agreed, quickly taking off their coats and hanging them in the coat room, too frazzled to think of the Shrinking Charm. She picked up her nephew, walked into the sanctuary, and fell into one of the last available seats with a relieved sigh.

"Where's Phillip?" Harry asked innocently, looking around.

"He's not Catholic, love, so he doesn't go to Mass. But, he'll be at home when we get back, to help us get ready for Santa Claus. Ok?"

"Ok," he answered, mollified. "Do you fancy him?"

"Yes, I do. Do you think he'd be a good boyfriend?" Isabelle asked, bouncing Harry on her lap.

"I like him. Do you like to kiss him?"

"Harry!" Her eyes opened wide in shock. "That is not your business, young man."

He shrugged and turned to face the altar. "I saw you kissing him last night. Gross."

Isabelle didn't know what to say to that, so she simply whispered a quick reminder to Harry to be quiet during Mass. He raised a chubby finger to his lips and giggled as the priest walked to the front of the sanctuary and raised his hands in a welcoming fashion. Somehow, Isabelle managed to keep a stern expression, even though she wanted to laugh at her nephew so badly.

"Welcome to St. Bede's," the priest boomed out. "It is our tradition here to begin the Mass with special music. I'd like to introduce Jake Parker, who's been a member at the Church for some time now and is active in the Campus Catholic Ministries at the College next door. A few weeks ago, Jake stopped by to have lunch with an old man, and we got to chatting about the Mass. He mentioned that before his first Midnight Mass, I told the story of how the song 'Silent Night' came to be, and what an impression that made on him."

"What the..." Isabelle whispered, unable to finish her sentence because Harry turned around and shushed her with his whole hand.

Jake Parker, a Catholic? The idea that he was at all religious made her want to laugh aloud. But sure enough, the priest finished his introduction, and a clean-cut, well-dressed Jake strode to the dias, with a guitar in his left hand. Harry gasped and tried to bolt out of Isabelle's lap.

"Be still," she fussed, charming him to her in case he attempted another escape.

"But, I want to go to Uncle Sir-us," he whined, squirming and patting her face to get her to pay attention to his pleas.

"Love, your Uncle Sirius isn't here." Oh, how I wish he was, she thought wistfully. But then again, I wouldn't be here, now would I?

"Uh-huh," Harry insisted, turning her head to the front, where Jake sat, on a stool, telling the story of "Silent Night". "Right there, Aunt Is-belle. I miss him. Please?"

Isabelle frowned, and looked at Jake critically. He _did_ resemble Sirius from a distance, but not so much that anyone would confuse the two. But, there was no convincing Harry otherwise. Eventually she had to take him out of the sanctuary before he disrupted the Mass. Sighing, she bundled them both up and headed back to the apartment.

Leave it to Jake Parker to ruin Christmas, she thought irritably, walking into the living room where Severus looked at her and raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Minute Mass?" he asked dryly, as Isabelle slammed the door shut.

"No, we had to leave," she explained through clenched teeth. "Get this. That stupid prat Jake Parker is a Catholic. Even better, he sang before Mass. And even more ridiculous than that, Harry thought he was--"

"Uncle Sir-us," the little boy finished cheerfully, blissfully unaware of the purely murderous look on Severus' face. Isabelle gulped, fearing the worst. Sure enough, the next words out of Harry's mouth were, "Where is he, Aunt Is-belle?"

"He had to go away, Harry," Isabelle said quietly.

"Why? Why doesn't he love us anymore?"

"He does love us." Her lower lip trembled slightly. "I promise."

"Where's Gracie?"

"I don't know. Where _is_ Gracie?" Isabelle repeated, giving Severus a pointed look. He scowled and put his fingers together irritably.

"Do not push your luck," Severus said, in a dark, deep voice.

Luckily for her, Phillip arrived early, saving her from a lecture by her guardian about inappropriate topics of conversation. Harry quickly forgot about Sirius, or Gracie, in the excitement of decorating the Christmas tree, a Leland Cypress, of course. Even Severus nearly smiled at Harry's antics and constant chatter. Unfortunately, the little boy was hopelessly clumsy, and kept knocking down ornaments. Once he nearly toppled the entire tree, but Phillip saved it in time.

"I don't understand," Isabelle sighed. "I mean, I'm a dancer. I have great balance, and so did Harry's mom. And his dad was a star Quidditch player."

"Maybe he's blind," Severus suggested snidely.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Perhaps he takes after his godforsaken father and can't bloody see. As in, needs ocular assistance in order to function properly." The sarcasm dripped from his words. He hated it when Isabelle was slow on the uptake. Usually she was quite clever.

"Ohhh." Her eyes lit up with understanding. "You know, that makes perfect sense. Maybe Harry thought Jake was his uncle because he couldn't _see_ well enough to tell the difference."

"Master of the obvious," Severus mumbled inaudibly, wondering how his life had turned out this way – sharing the holidays with the son and sister-in-law of his mortal enemy. And worst of all, he didn't mind. In fact, he was having fun, though he'd rather undergo multiple rounds of the worst curses imaginable than admit it.

-----

"What do you mean, the Camaro is superior to the Trans Am?" Phillip snorted incredulously, looking at Isabelle in disbelief. "What do you know, anyway? You're foreign."

"I may be foreign, but I still have good taste," she replied archly, turning around to look at Harry. He'd been awfully quiet during the entire car ride, which was never a good thing. Luckily, he was happily playing with a toy Snitch that Severus, of all people, gave him for Christmas. "Do you like your toy, Harry?"

"Yup," he chirped, watching the Snitch's wings slowly flutter up and down.

"Don't let go of it," Isabelle warned. "Phillip's driving is bad enough as it is. We'd be in real trouble if that Snitch started flying around the car."

Harry nodded seriously as Phillip frowned, grumped something inaudible, and turned into the massive Wiz-Mart parking lot. The little boy's eyes opened wide at the sight of rows and rows of the most unusual vehicles imaginable. Unlike their English counterparts, who preferred to use as little Muggle technology as possible, American wizards tended to be much more in tune with their surrounding culture. And as a whole, American wizards held an extreme fascination for all motor vehicles.

Instead of traveling by broom, or smuggling in an illegal magic carpet, they would purchase a Muggle vehicle and soup it up however they liked. On the way inside the massive, sprawling store, the trio passed by a Volkswagen Super Beetle that was covered with electric green fuzzy carpet. Isabelle's jaw nearly dropped when she saw an entire Quidditch team pile out of a white Monte Carlo Super Sport. Before she could stop herself, she mused that a flying motorcycle wouldn't be out of place one bit in this parking lot.

Perceptive child that he is, Harry lifted his head from Isabelle's shoulder and quietly said, "I miss him, too."

"Miss who?" Phillip asked, wondering why Isabelle stiffened and set her jaw determinedly.

"Harry's uncle had a flying motorcycle," she explained in a matter-of-fact tone, shifting her thoughts so her nephew wouldn't pick up on more of her thoughts or emotions. "He used to love flying that thing. When Grace was born, she was premature and colicky. Sometimes the only thing that would put her to sleep is if he'd put her in a basket, charm it to the bike, and ride around Great Britain for a few hours."

"Oh," Phillip said, wondering what kind of reckless wizard would put his infant in a flying motorcycle. But, he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to start a fight. Isabelle was quite sensitive about her family, and he preferred to stay on her good side.

"I went too!" Harry exclaimed, hurt at not being included.

Isabelle raised an eyebrow. "I thought your mummy didn't let you go because it was dangerous."

"Mummy didn't. Daddy let me," he answered with a devilish smirk that was James Potter all over.

"I see."

She fought a smile, wondering what Lily would think if she knew. Probably not something very nice, she decided, walking into the store and peering at the directory for the optometrist's office. On the way, Harry begged to stop at least ten times to look at various things, and the only way Isabelle could placate him is with the promise that they'd look around the store after he saw the eye doctor.

They were nearly late as it was, barely making it on time to Harry's appointment. The optometrist at Wiz-Mart was the best in the entire region, and she kept a busy schedule. Isabelle quickly filled out the forms, praying that the examination wouldn't cost too much. She borrowed money from Severus to cover the expense of the exam and Harry's glasses, but she knew that he really didn't have the money to spare. She desperately needed a job, and planned to begin looking that afternoon.

A wiry witch with bushy, bluish-grey hair opened an office door, and called out the pseudonym that Isabelle made up for Harry to use during the holidays. Luckily he remembered his "secret name", and bounded towards the examination room. Isabelle followed him, unwilling to let him from her sight.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry emerged from the tiny, dark room, holding a multi-colored lollipop. Isabelle followed, holding a thick piece of parchment covered in purple scribble. She looked at Phillip, down at her nephew, then at the parchment again.

"Something wrong?" Phillip asked, stuffing an automobile magazine in his coat pocket and standing up.

"I hate her," she replied simply, scooping up Harry and storming off towards the racks of eyeglasses.

"Uh, why do you hate the optometrist?"

"I don't," Isabelle said shortly, clenching her teeth. "Harry, love, why don't you go look at the toys over there for a minute? Don't go too far, though."

She watched him head over to a display of small, magically enchanted basketballs that randomly changed size and color. Satisfied the he would be amused for a few minutes, she said to Phillip, "He's bloody blind as a bat."

"Nice alliteration," he drawled, trying not to laugh at her accent, which grew thicker when irritated. She glared at him, but chose to ignore his statement. Besides, it _was_ good alliteration, she proudly decided.

"He can't bloody see. Why didn't my pathetic excuse of a sister notice that? Oh, wait. That would require her paying a second's worth of attention to Harry, now wouldn't it?" Her words dripped with sarcasm, and she felt like punching something. Hard.

"Why?" Isabelle continued, her voice beginning to wobble. "Why can't I keep Harry? I love him, and it's obvious that Petunia couldn't really care what happens to him. It's just not fair."

Phillip smiled sadly, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his head on her shoulder. They stood silently for a minute, watching Harry try to eat his lollipop and play with the ball at the same time, rather unsuccessfully. "I know it's not fair. But some things aren't in your control."

"Nothing's _ever_ in my control," she said quietly, in the angriest voice he'd ever heard, from anyone.

"That's not true," he replied optimistically.

"Name one thing, just one, that's in my control," Isabelle challenged. He thought for a minute, then smiled and turned her around to face him.

"Well, about Harry, you can't control when you get to spend time with him. But you can control what you do with the time y'all have together. That's one. Here's another: I'm about to kiss you, right in the middle of Wiz-Mart," he said, blue eyes flashing wickedly.

"How can I control that?" she asked flirtatiously.

"You can either let me, or--" Isabelle interrupted him by throwing her shyness aside and kissing him, not caring who saw her. After a couple of minutes, he actually looked slightly embarrassed and whispered in her ear, "And I thought you weren't the type of girl to make out in public."

"I'm not," she said sassily. "Just wanted to make it clear to those stupid girls who follow you around like sodding groupies that you have a girlfriend."

Phillip's eyes flew open. Since when was Isabelle possessive about him? Not that he minded, but still. He couldn't help leaning in for another kiss, having waited for a chance with her for so long.

"Gross," a small voice huffed to Isabelle's right, immediately breaking them apart.

She marveled at how indignantly offended Harry could look, considering his age and stature. Feeling like she'd just been caught snogging by James himself, her face turned bright red and she fought for some semblance of composure. She felt incredibly sorry for any children of Harry's, especially daughters.

"Why do you do that anyway?" Harry asked, making a face.

"Well," Isabelle floundered, "um, because we like each other."

"Why?" he followed up immediately, crossing his arms across his chest. She fought an urge to laugh because he looked _so_ much like his father.

"Because I said so," she said in an authoritative tone that indicated the subject was closed. She smiled down at him and teased, "Just you wait. You'll find a girl you like and kiss her one day."

Harry's eyes grew large as he hissed, "I will not."

"You will too. Anyway, come on. Let's pick out some eyeglasses." Isabelle made a mental note to remember this conversation for future reference. He really cracked her up.

Still indignant, Harry grabbed her hand possessively, frowned at Phillip, and began leading them towards the glasses. Harry didn't know how glasses would make him see better, but he was excited about getting anything brand-new. Afraid that he wouldn't get them if he misbehaved, he patiently waited while Isabelle talked to the sales clerk.

"No," she was saying, "I need a pair that will grow with him. And that are easily repaired with very simple charms."

The tall, thin wizard clucked and stared down at her. "Miss, are you sure all that is entirely necessary? Those options do not come cheap."

"Positive," Isabelle nodded, internally wincing at the price tag attached to a pair of small, wire-framed eyeglasses she plucked off the children's rack. They looked a lot like a pair James wore when he first graduated Hogwarts. When she put them on Harry's still-baby face, he truly was a miniature of his father. "These. These are the perfect pair."

"Are you sure?" the sales wizard asked again, in a low tone. "These are our top of the line frames. I'm sure he could get by with--"

"Yes, I'm absolutely sure. Do you like them, Harry?" Isabelle asked as he studied his image in the mirror.

"Yup," he nodded.

"Well, it's decided, then. How long until they'll be ready?" she inquired politely, but inwardly irritated that the salesman kept second-guessing her. Didn't they work on commission, anyway? she thought, annoyed.

"Two hours," he answered, handing her a stack of parchment forms to fill out.

While she wrote so much that her hand nearly cramped, Phillip kept Harry entertained by playing indoor soccer outside the eyeglass center. When it came time to pay, she was grateful that neither heard the amount – over a month's rent. She gulped, wondering how she would ever pay Severus back.

On the way to the toy section, Isabelle spied a small sign in the apothecary's window. She paused, picked up Harry, and walked closer. Sure enough, it read, "Help Wanted" in large, block letters. Shifting her nephew on her hip, she boldly walked up to the window and rang the bell to get the small wizard's attention. He finished the potion he was working on, then walked over to her.

"Can I help you?" the apothecary drawled, taking out a quill and a thick notepad.

"Actually, yes," Isabelle answered winningly. "I'm here to apply for the job advertised in the window. See, I'm a--"

"Teenager," the man answered dismissively. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I need someone to help make potions and such. Not a secretary."

Sweetheart? Isabelle fought the urge to be irritated, and instead replied, "Good, because I'm an expert in potions making. I'm sure I'm more than good enough for what you need here. At my old school, I actually taught potions to the younger students."

"What school?" The apothecary narrowed his eyes at her foreign accent.

"Beauxbatons," she lied easily, knowing that Professor Dumbledore had manufactured flawless transcripts for her.

"Did you transfer to Spotswood?" he asked, doodling on the pad of parchment. "No. I was too advanced so I study at home," Isabelle answered cooly. "Listen, I know you don't believe me, and I don't blame you. So, why don't you test me?"

"Test you?"

"Two minutes of your time. Pick a potion, any potion, and I'll make it right now. If I can't, then I'll go on my way, with an apology for wasting your time. But if I can..."

The apothecary was quite eager to rid himself of this irritating, blonde teenager and get back to work, so he quickly interrupted, "Fine. Make Wit-Sharpening Potion."

"All right. May I?" When the wizard nodded, she walked inside, still carrying Harry. She took a quick inventory of the shelves, and quickly replied, "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't."

Triumphant, the wizard, whose name tag read Earl, attempted to shoo her from the laboratory, but she stood her ground. "Miss, you said that you would leave. Must I call security?"

"Sir, I can't make the potion because one of the ingredients is missing. Wit-Sharpening Potion calls for scarab beetles. You only have common American ones here. So, you asked me a trick question. No one could make that potion, not even you," Isabelle said calmly.

"What? I always carry scarab beetles," the apothecary huffed, searching the shelf. After a minute, he stood up with a sheepish smile. "I stand corrected. Welcome to the Wiz-Mart Apothecary Department, Miss – what's your name?"

"Isabelle," she replied, shaking his outstretched hand. She didn't want to give her pseudonym last name, in case Harry had a lapse of memory during all the excitement of the day. After all, he was only two and a half.

"Earl," he said, eyeing her with respect. "You have guts, kid. I'll give you that. How about starting after New Year's? Things will slow down after the first, so I can train you then."

I wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing, she thought with a small smile. "Sounds great."

"Good. Come in next week and we'll make up a schedule."

After talking for a few more minutes, Isabelle bounded over to Phillip, who was talking to a middle-aged lady. She felt as impatient as Harry, and quickly tired of whatever her boyfriend was saying, not that she was paying attention anyway. She was far too busy being thrilled that she actually found a job. A decent job, at that.

"Oh," Phillip started, finally noticing that Isabelle and Harry were standing there. "Where did you disappear to?"

"I got a job," she couldn't help but gush.

"How lovely," the lady said in a surprisingly frosty tone. "Where, at the check-out counters?"

"Oh, no," Isabelle laughed. "I'm the new assistant apothecary. When I get my NEWT levels, which I simply have to push Severus to let me sit for as soon as possible, I'll be a real, live, official apothecary. Isn't that amazing?"

"Quite. Well, Phillip, it was nice to see you. Take care," the lady stiffly said, before turning on her heel crisply and walking away.

Isabelle turned to him and asked, "Okay, who was she, and why was she so rude? What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything," he answered distractedly, watching her retreating frame. "That's Mrs. Norris."

"Mrs. Norris," she repeated, bursting into uncontrollable laughter. He looked at her, shocked and nearly offended.

"What's so funny?"

"It's just...just..." she choked, "that the caretaker at Hogwarts, a horribly mean man named Mr. Filch, got a kitten in my fourth year. He named her Mrs. Norris, which was such a stupid name for a tiny, evil ball of fluff. It was really funny. Guess you had to be there."

"Guess so." Phillip visibly shook himself and forced a smile on his face. "So, you're gainfully employed, huh? Any chance of a discount?"

"You wish." She playfully turned her nose in the air, in a terrific mood.

"Can we look at the toys now?" Harry quietly asked, feeling a little neglected. Isabelle looked down at him, smiled, then swung him around in the air.

"Absolutely. That all right with you, chauffeur?"

Phillip nodded slightly, trying to focus on the scene in front of him. He didn't expect to run into Mrs. Norris, though he should've, especially somewhere like Wiz-Mart. But, things change, and people must move on, without feeling guilty about it. At least, that's what he told himself while joining Isabelle and Harry at a massive display of toddler toys. That life goes on, whether you're ready for it to, or not.


	18. Chapter 16: Confessional

**Chapter 16: Confessional**

Half-blindly, Isabelle walked into the sanctuary of St. Bede's Catholic Church, found the darkest, most secluded pew, and curled up in a corner. She felt absolutely devastated. He was gone. Severus took him away that morning, just as he said he would. Somehow, she hoped that he'd change his mind. But, he didn't.

She didn't want to be at home, where everything reminded her of Harry. It was like losing her family all over again. The pain felt so fresh, so new, and cut her so deeply that she didn't ever think she could feel anything else ever again. All she could do is hide. Hide from her friends, and from Phillip, and from reality.

Church was good for that. Ever since her childhood, whenever she needed an escape, she ran away to the cool, reassuring pews. Guess that's why it's called a sanctuary, she mused in between sobbing into a growing pile of tissues. She lost herself so completely that she didn't notice when someone sat in the pew in front of her.

"Need a tissue?" he asked, rather kindly, he thought.

"I don't need a damn thing from you, Jake Parker," she replied without looking up.

"Such foul language in God's holy temple," he said mildly, stretching out his legs. "So, what brings you to St. Bede's on this fine New Year's morning? Not everyone's a mind reader like you."

Isabelle sat straight up, eyes blazing fire. "That was low. You know why I'm here. I...I...l-lost Ha--"

Jake put his hand on her shoulder to help steady her. "You're right, that was low. But, I thought we were friends. Why didn't you even introduce me to your nephew at Midnight Mass?"

"_Were_. We _were_ friends," she said, blowing her nose loudly. "Friends don't threaten to turn friends over to the authorities."

"True. What I said was wrong, but my heart was in the right place. I just.."

"Just what?"

"Got scared," he admitted hollowly, looking at the ceiling. "I mean, we all thought Phillip was crazy. And, not only was he right, but you're this mind reader. Do you know how scary that is?"

"What, that I'm from England? That's Phillip's right about something? I'm confused."

"All of the above, plus the mind reading thing."

Isabelle looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "What are you afraid for me to know?"

"Nothing," he quickly answered. "Look, can I make a peace offering?"

"What sort of peace offering?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, her tears finally stopping.

"I'll keep your secrets, no problem. As long as you don't read my mind. Or anyone else's. That's creepy, and it's not fair. I'll never tell anyone anything you tell me, swear. I've kinda missed having you around, irritating brat that you are," Jake joked, pushing her shoulder playfully.

"What's in it for me?" Isabelle huffed. "Seems pretty stacked in your favor."

"My outstanding friendship. And, I'll tell you stories about Phillip that he'd never tell since he's an uptight--"

"Hey! Watch it. That's my uptight boyfriend you're talking about," she laughed through her tears.

"Boyfriend," he blinked. "Didn't know it was a serious thing."

Isabelle frowned. "Why, is there something wrong with dating him? Is he really a jerk, or some sort of abusive alien monster underneath that uptight, really cute exterior?"

"No. He's a great guy. It's a surprise, that's all."

"He brought Harry back to me. But now, he's gone again." She began sobbing again. "I don't have anyone left. What's the use? No one even cares."

Jake raised an eyebrow at her pity party. "You know, you're not alone in suffering. Other people have tough lives, too. And somehow they manage to not run away from their problems and wallow in self-pity."

"Ha. I've lost my whole family," she defended herself.

"Right. You're the only person in the whole world to lose someone they've loved."

"You wouldn't understand."

"No, being abandoned by my mom was a picnic. It felt great."

"Sorry," Isabelle winced. "It's just that I get jealous of people with perfect lives, you know? People like Phillip."

"Phillip hasn't had it easy," Jake said, standing up to leave. He didn't have any more patience left. "If you paid attention, you might've noticed that your boy isn't as perfect as you think."

Isabelle chased after him. "What do you mean?"

"You tell me. You're the mind reader."

-----

By the time she reached her apartment, Isabelle had finished crying, leaving only her swollen, puffy, red eyes. She climbed the steps and walked inside the empty living room. Severus tentatively walked in the room, and motioned for her to sit on the sofa.

"You hate me, don't you?" he asked quietly. She didn't know what surprised her more, that he would ask such a personal question, or that he truly cared about her response.

"No, I don't hate you," she said, just as silently. "I just don't understand."

Severus nodded and slouched down into the thick sofa cushions. "Dumbledore and I decided a while back what's in your best interests. And that is to be a normal teenager. You know that."

"I still don't understand why I can't have Harry. You know how horrible it is for him at Petunia's. Why, Severus? Why did you take him back there?" Her green eyes begged him for answers, and frankly, he didn't have a very comforting one.

"Because that's what Dumbledore said to do," he said simply. "I already went against his orders by letting you spend the holidays with your nephew. What would we have done with the Potter boy? Kept on the run from town to town before Dumbledore or the law found us? Be realistic, Isabelle. I lived that sort of life before, and I was pretty damn sick of it."

"Harry. His name is Harry," Isabelle said weakly, not wanting to admit that he had a point.

"You gave him a wonderful holiday, and you should be really proud of that," he said, trying to cheer her up. "You're a good aunt. This has nothing to do with you being unfit. Not every teenager would take a part-time job just to make sure her nephew can see. When do you start, anyway?"

"Monday evening," she sniffled. "Five to ten. I should be home by ten-thirty."

"No more than fifteen hours a week," he cautioned. "You can take your time repaying me. I know you're good for the money."

Isabelle began sniffling all over again. "Why are you being so nice to me? When I was so horrible to you last night?"

"Because I know what it's like to lose someone you love. It sucks."

"Did you say the word sucks?" she asked in amazement, fighting back a laugh.

"It happens," he replied caustically, looking up as Sarah Lindsay appeared in the hallway. "Do you ever use the door?"

The petite blond grinned evilly. "Why, when there's a perfectly good fire escape? How goes it, Bubba? Hot date tonight?"

Severus actually blushed. "None of your business."

"Ooh, sounds racy," she teased, sitting between him and Isabelle. "Where're ya going?"

"Again, none--"

Sarah Lindsay stared at her fingernails, bored. "You are so lame sometimes. Anyway, I've come to kidnap Isabelle. Her presence is requested three doors down in the dump where our boys live."

"I don't know," Isabelle protested. "I don't really think I'm up for company, and I'm really tired, and--"

"Whatever. Come on. You're getting cheered up, whether you want it or not." She pulled an uncooperative Isabelle to her feet an pulled her to the door.

"Say hi to Stacey for me," she managed to say before Sarah Lindsay yanked her into the hallway.

-----

Despite the upheaval of the Christmas holidays, life quickly settled back into a fairly predictable routine. Isabelle still despised home economics, and kept pricking her finger while trying to hand-sew her stuffed lion. Ninth grade P.E. continued to be a pain; but, she was the star student in chemistry. All in all, school progressed uneventfully.

After the final bell, she usually had an hour or two to kill before work, so she spent the time in the library doing her homework. The only thing even remotely out of the ordinary was that most of the time, Phillip picked her up from work and they went out for an hour or two before her midnight curfew.

Then, they'd curl up on the sofa until one o'clock or so, when Phillip would fall asleep, Isabelle would wake him up, and force him to Apparate home. On the weekends, when they weren't working or studying, they would sometimes go out with friends, or just stay in, since Severus almost never spent the weekends in town. Isabelle always went to Mass on Sunday morning, while Phillip slept in. She'd politely greet Jake before Mass began, and fight the urge to ask him how on earth he ended up religious in nature.

Life was pretty good. Well, as good as it could be for Isabelle. Until one Saturday morning, she had an unexpected fight with Phillip. The brake calipers on the Corvette needed to be changed, because a snowstorm blew moisture into the brakes, and they weren't very safe. Naturally, she knew how to do it, but she needed ramps to put the car on. And it would've been nice if Phillip helped out, so she didn't have to spend her whole morning working on the car.

When she asked him about it, he blew up in her face, saying that he didn't think that her working on her own car was a very good idea, and that was what mechanics got paid to do. Isabelle couldn't believe how rude he was, considering that all she asked for were his ramps. She didn't even get to ask him to help her, or get even say another word before he yelled at her to take the car to Wiz-Mart, turned around, and stomped off.

She put on her shoes, walked down the hallway, and tentatively knocked on the door of Phillip's apartment. A disheveled and probably hung over, Jake answered, scowling down at her. He opened the door just wide enough to let her, but not the morning sunlight, inside.

"Phillip's not here," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"I know," Isabelle said, biting her lip to keep from crying. "I came looking for you."

"Why? Trouble in paradise or something? What does that have to do with me?" he asked meanly, frowning even deeper.

A tear threatened to roll down her face, so Isabelle quickly made for the door. "Nothing. Never mind, just forget I came here."

"Isabelle!" Jake called out, grabbing her arm to stop her. "Don't leave. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. What's up?"

In the semi-darkness, he looked so much like Sirius that she couldn't literally couldn't speak. A lump formed in her throat, nearly choking her. She began gasping for breath, which turned into an asthmatic wheeze. Jake quickly guided her to the sofa and sat her down, instructing her to put her head between her knees.

"Breathe really slowly," he said soothingly. "In through your nose and out through your mouth. That's it. Keep breathing."

After a minute, Isabelle's head cleared enough to say, "Thanks. You just reminded me of someone. Like seeing a ghost."

"Who?" he asked curiously.

"No one important," she lied, changing the subject to the reason she was there. "Phillip left me."

"What?" Jake loudly exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "I can't believe that," he swore profusely, "dumped you. When I get my hands on him, I'll..."

By now, Isabelle was holding her hands over her ears to block out the swearing. Does he even have to have Sirius' temper? she wondered. "Stop! Please stop. Phillip didn't dump me. He literally walked out on me a minute ago. We had a fight, and I don't know why."

"What happened?"

Isabelle quickly explained that her brakes needed to be changed, and when she told Phillip this, he freaked out on her, concluding with, "I don't understand."

"Well, if you knew your boy better, you would understand," Jake quietly said. "That's what I was getting at a while back. Phillip's a little touchy about cars."

"Why?"

"What's it worth to you?"

Isabelle considered the question. "Remember that truce you offered a while back?"

"Sure."

"What if I took you up on it?" she offered. Reading people's thoughts was a chore, anyway. Most people didn't have very intriguing thoughts to begin with.

"On one condition. Before I tell you what I know, I want to know something," Jake counter-offered, studying her closely. "What is your relationship to Bubba? Your real relationship. I want the whole story."

She sighed heavily. "It's a long story."

"Take it or leave it." He crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow, knowing that he had the upper hand. Sure enough, Isabelle nodded her agreement, and summoned a small knife into her outstretched hand.

"What the...?" Jake's voice trailed off.

"Wizard contract. I want you to agree by blood oath that you will tell _no one_ what I'm about to tell you," she said, staring him squarely in the eyes.

"What have you been through?" he mused, mostly to himself, watching her cut her index finger and wince in pain. She passed the knife to Jake, who did the same. "All right, let's do this. I agree not to tell your secrets, if you don't blab to Phillip what I tell you. Good enough?"

"Works for me." Isabelle wrinkled her nose, and quickly touched her bloody finger to his. "That was so gross."

"Your idea." He sat back down, sprawling out comfortably. "So, what's up with you and Bubba? I know for a fact that he's not blood related to you. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's Severus Snape."

"He is," she said simply.

Jake crossed his arms again. "Severus Snape, the Death Eater? That's pretty interesting company for you to keep. Are the rumors about you true, that you're a traitor to your family?"

"Of course not!" Isabelle gasped. She couldn't believe he even suggested that.

"Interesting that you didn't deny that the man you live with worked for the Dark Lord," Jake continued, clenching his jaw. "What's the price you had to pay for your life? What does he make you do? Because you don't have to live like that."

"H-he doesn't make me do anything," she stammered, getting up to run from the apartment again. And just like before, Jake caught her mid-stride. He forced her to turn to face him, despite her best efforts to get away.

"Whatever he made you do isn't your fault. You're safe now, I swear. Just tell me what happened, and I promise--"

"Nothing happened!" Isabelle screamed, in a frustrated, choked tone. "What is it with you people? First Phillip, and now you. Why do you assume that I had to trade favors for my life? Severus never, and would never, do that."

"He's a Death Eater," Jake answered through his clenched teeth, unconvinced that she was telling the truth. "My father's in the OMA; you know that. I heard plenty of stories about what Death Eaters did. How can you live with one?"

"I don't have a choice."

"I thought as much."

"You don't understand," she said helplessly, abandoning her fight.

"Then help me understand," he said, just as helplessly, before dropping her arms.

"I'm trying!" Isabelle insisted, marching to the sofa and pointing down. "So are you going to sit and listen, or what?"

"Fine," he mumbled, stomping back over to her. He obediently sat and waiting for her to speak, which took a minute because honestly, Isabelle didn't quite know where to begin.

"I guess I should start with my brother-in-law, James," she said slowly, still thinking.

"James Potter, the famous Quidditch player for England?"

"That's he," Isabelle confirmed. "I remember when he played for England. I was barely eight, and it was right after Lily came home to Dover to look after me. It was my first trip away from home. Well, my second, but I'd rather not get into that. Anyway, it was in Ireland, and I had a ball walking around Inish Shark with Harry's uncle."

"Sirius Black, you mean," Jake corrected her boldly, watching her face melt for a split second before regaining its cool composure. "Why don't you ever mention him by name? Why can't anyone mention him by name?"

Isabelle finally lost the vestiges of her self-control, bursting out, "Because I can't, that's why! The man whom I l--" she caught herself, "who raised me from childhood – I can't say his name because it'll piss Severus off. Don't you think I want to talk about him? About Sirius."

She said the last word so softly, hesitantly, that Jake knew there was more to her feelings for the man other than that Sirius raised her. But, he temporarily let that go, with only the one-word response, "Oh," followed by, "Tell me about Sirius Black then."

For the first time, her unreadable green eyes faded into a bright, happy sparkle. With a genuine smile, she said, "Well, I can't answer your question without doing that. See, James and Sirius grew up together. Along with James' twin sister, Regina. The three of them were inseparable. My sister Lily somehow got caught up in their vortex on their first train ride to Hogwarts, and never quite escaped."

"And Bubba went to school with them?"

Isabelle nodded. "Same year. Severus was in Slytherin house, but James and Sirius were both Gryffindors. Natural rivalry. There was bad blood between them for years; something about a prank gone wrong. But, things really got interesting in their seventh year. Sirius and Regina were down in the basement doing Lord only knows what, and stumbled across some information about their heritage that they didn't know how to handle."

"What?"

"I'm not totally sure. Something very important. Before then, they were very close. But after that, Sirius shut himself off from everyone, especially Regina, who turned to a certain Slytherin for the friendship she wasn't getting from Sirius. Then, after graduation, everyone went their separate ways. Lily came to Dover to raise me, James went to train for the Quidditch Cup, and Regina went to New York City."

"What of Sirius Black?"

"He planned to go to New York, too. But then he literally ran across a little eight-year-old girl who needed him very badly. So, he gave up on going there with the girl he'd loved since he could remember for me. That's why it's all my fault," Isabelle concluded, her chin quivering. Jake took the opportunity to put his arm around her shoulder companionably and pull her closer to him.

"What's all your fault?"

"All of this! If Sirius hadn't stayed with me, then Regina would've never married Severus," she choked out.

"Whoa! Back up here. I think I'm missing something," Jake exclaimed, shocked that a Potter would marry someone as seemingly repulsive as Severus Snape.

"Severus went to New York to get away from Regina because he fancied her," Isabelle explained. "They ran into each other, moved in together to save money on rent, fell in love, and got married. Secretly. No one knew anything about it."

"How Romeo and Juliet," Jake smirked.

"Yeah, except in this story, only Juliet dies. The Dark Lord, along with some rather unpleasant relatives of the Potters, decided to wipe out the whole family. Since Voldemort was already in New York City, he decided to start with Regina. To make a long story short, she got hooked on some really awful drugs laced with a virus designed to attack her heart."

"What?"

"They were supposed to kill her very slowly and painfully. The Dark Lord's a sadist like that. But Regina had a heart defect that no one knew about, so she developed a rare condition called infective endocarditis. Severus didn't have the money for her medicine, and didn't want to turn to her family for help since he didn't get along with James or Sirius, so he went to Voldemort. Basically, he sold his soul so she could live. That's how Severus became a Death Eater."

"Wow," Jake whistled, his opinion of Isabelle's guardian going up in his eyes a bit.

"To make another extremely long story short, to save her family's reputation, Regina divorced Severus and moved back to England. Then she stole Sirius away from me," she said in a purely venomous voice. "He was mine. But then _she_ came back, and he started following her around like a stupid lovesick puppy."

"You don't like her."

"Regina Black always has been, and always will be, the thorn in my side. Even though she's dead, her ghost casts an impossibly large shadow that I'll never get out from under. She'll never let me be." Isabelle's eyes regained their usual hardness as she unconsciously clenched her fists.

"But she's dead," Jake pointed out.

"Which makes her a sainted martyr. At least that came in handy. As you know, she bloody married Sirius, and died giving birth to his child. Her heart finally failed," Isabelle said in a lilting, unsympathetic tone. "Things got really bad with the whole Voldemort deal, so our little family split in two. Since I'm a Muggle-born of a certain age, who happens to be related to important people, Sirius and James refused to send me back to Hogwarts. Said I was too pretty of a target. At least he said I was pretty..."

Confused, Jake burst out, "But you can't be Muggle-born."

"Why not?"

"Because...because I...I thought you were a half-blood, like my sister," he lied, scrambling to cover his outburst. Isabelle shrugged.

"Technically, I am a half-blood since my mum was a Squib. Six of one, half dozen of another."

"No, it's very important. I can't--"

"Can't be friends with a mudblood, is that it? You-you-you--" she stammered angrily.

"That's not it! Never mind. Forget I said anything. Keep going?" Jake asked, really not wanting her to know he had a hopeless crush on her. Not now, when she was with Phillip. That would be plain humiliating; to lose a girl to him. So Jake decided that explaining his personal policy of not dating Muggle-borns would be useless, not to mention that she'd probably get mad at him and call him bigoted.

"Where was I?" Isabelle asked, confused.

"The part where you weren't allowed to go back to Hogwarts," he reminded her.

"Oh, yeah. We abandoned our house in Dover because the location wasn't safe for the kids anymore. I guess that included me," she said with a wry laugh. "So, Lily, James and Harry hid out in Godric's Hollow, while Sirius, Gracie and I went to Sheffield. It wasn't the best situation, but we made it though."

"When was the last time you saw your sister?" Jake asked, pulling her even closer to him, wanting to comfort her but trying not to be too obvious about it. Distracted by grief and clueless about his intentions, Isabelle gratefully leaned on him for support, actually thankful that someone cared enough to ask the difficult questions.

"The last day of my fifth year term," Isabelle said thickly. "I said goodbye to she and James in King's Cross Station like it was nothing. I had to pretend like I wasn't scared, that nothing was wrong. It was so hard watching them walk away with Harry."

"I bet."

Now he turned around slightly towards her and wrapped his other arm around her, in what most people would consider a loose embrace, at the very least. He knew this was dangerous ground, especially if Phillip happened to walk inside. But Jake didn't care. Isabelle was upset, and she needed a hug, period.

"What happened the night your sister died?" Jake asked gently, debating on whether or not rubbing her back would be inappropriate. Though he decided it was, he did it anyway, figuring that if Isabelle really minded, she'd say something about it. But her mind was far away, on another continent, in another time, another life.

In a faraway, weak voice she recalled, "It was such a beautiful fall day. I really wanted to dress Gracie up and take her trick or treating, but Sirius said it was far too dangerous. We compromised by his bringing home an impossibly large bag of candy and various treats and such to play with."

"I thought you were alone when--"

"We were. Sirius left--" she shut her eyes tightly, picturing that last image of him walking through the door, "but I knew where the candy was, thank goodness. Gracie knew all about Halloween; she's a very smart child and wanted her candy, whether her father was there or not. Then the night came. I hate darkness, and couldn't sleep. Gracie was on edge anyway."

"From the candy?"

"That, and she's a funny throwback of a child. From the first, she was always very sensitive about things. Sirius worried about her, said that she was a little too aware of things for her age and was afraid that would burden her somehow." Isabelle lowered her voice and said in a confidential tone, "Gracie's grandmother was a Seer. We think she might've inherited some of Mummy P's gifts."

"Whoa! What crazy stuff's in the water over there? Seers, mind readers..."

Jake laughed, realizing why the Dark Lord would want to exterminate such a powerful family. Isabelle rolled her eyes and finally decided to set the record straight.

"I'm not a mind reader, technically. I'm a Discerner. That's different. I can only read a thought a person's thinking at the moment. If I can latch onto the thought, I can break into a person's mind. Kind of like following a thread from one end to the other. But if they're unreadable, forget it. It requires a small amount of cooperation."

"Or ignorance."

"Or ignorance," she agreed. "So all you have to do to hide something from me is to never think about it in my presence. Very simple."

Now you tell me, Jake groaned internally, feeling like a prize fool."So when did you realize something was wrong?"

"That night? When Gracie walked over to the window and pointed to the huge Dark Mark in the sky. Pretty big clue."

"Oh."

"Yeah. The light kept getting brighter, so I pretty well figured they were coming for us. I grabbed Gracie, ran upstairs, wrote a goodbye letter to my family, and hid with her in the vain hope that we wouldn't be found." Isabelle sat quietly for a minute, remembering. "Then I heard someone at the door."

She sat up perfectly straight, and her eyes took on an eerie look. "I knew that was it. I only prayed that they'd be merciful and kill Gracie quickly."

"Merciful? What's merciful about killing someone?" Jake nearly roared, his arms falling to his side limply, in shock.

"If you know someone's going to die," Isabelle said, staring him down, "and you knew how it was going to happen, how horrible it would be, wouldn't you kill them quickly instead? If you had the choice of watching someone be tortured to within an inch of her life, then killed, or a painless death – which would you choose?"

"I'd rather help the person escape."

"Fool! You stupid, ignorant fool!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands, standing up, then pacing. "That's not an option. If you even hint at being a traitor, everything they do to other people, they'll do to you in a heartbeat. Live in a real world, Jake. Life isn't neat. Sometimes the right thing to do is to kill someone."

"Murder," he pronounced clearly. "It's murder."

"So, you wouldn't associate with a killer, then?" she challenged him. "Well, it's been nice knowing you."

Jake stared at her, wondering if she was joking, and flatly stated, "You killed someone. Why?"

"He needed killing," Isabelle shrugged.

"Oh," he said again, not knowing what to say to that. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

"Okay, so what happened when the Death Eaters got to the door?" Jake asked, changing the subject.

"Death Eater, as in singular tense," Isabelle corrected. "It was Severus, who planned to quickly kill us, just like I'd hoped. But, the other Death Eaters ran away instead of following him to the house, giving us exactly enough time to escape. Severus decided to spare Regina's daughter's life. I was just the babysitter."

"And he ended up here with you," Jake concluded. "What about the baby?"

"The last I heard, Gracie's been adopted by a childless family. So, unlike Harry, Severus made sure she's well-provided for. Meanwhile, Bubba's looking after me to get on Dumbledore's good side so he can get a job back home this summer."

"He's leaving you?"

"I'll be an adult, even by your ridiculous American standards, this June. I can do what I want to with my life, and so can he."

"But, I thought y'all were friends."

"We are. But he misses home. We both do," Isabelle said softly. "And unlike me, he can go back home and lead a normal-ish life. He deserves to be happy. I want him to be happy."

"What about you? Are you going back, too?"

She shook her head no. "I like it here. Well, since I came back with Harry, I've liked it here. It's nice to have friends, you know?"

"Yeah, I do. So, are we going to fix that car of yours, or not?" Jake asked, standing up to leave. He needed time to process everything he'd heard, and besides, he'd rather not talk about Phillip, anyway. It was definitely to his advantage that Isabelle forgot all about the subject.


	19. Chapter 17: Laura Norris

**Author's Note: **Well, this is my v. first time posting away from the HP boards. Strange! As I've said ad nauseum, the tone's going to change, & the beginnings of that are in this chapter. There's much more delving into the hormonal side of things, along with a nice, comparatively, nightmare scene.

Thanks so v. much for following me to my saga's new home!

* * *

**Chapter 17: Laura Norris**

In fact, Isabelle did forget about it until Phillip came home, took one look at she and Jake changing out the brake rotors while laughing and talking, and stormed upstairs. She looked at Jake, wide-eyed, who had a completely blank expression, save for a glimmer of an evil twinkle in his eyes. Confused, she sat up, leaned against the car, and turned to her friend.

"What was that about?" she asked, in a no-nonsense tone that clearly asserted that she wanted a straight answer this time.

Jake shrugged. "He's touchy about cars."

"That's it? He's 'touchy about cars'. I pour my heart out to you, and that's all I get?" She was incensed, especially after telling Jake secrets she hadn't even dared to whisper to anyone else.

"If you really want to know, her name was Laura Norris," he confessed with a darkening expression. "And if Phillip hasn't brought her up, I probably wouldn't ask him about it."

"That's why I'm asking you, you bloody retard," Isabelle snapped.

"You asked, I told you. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don't want to talk about it, either?" Jake snapped back. "If you're so damn curious, go find out about her yourself. Meanwhile, we'd better hurry up before it starts snowing."

"Fine."

"Fine," he repeated, equally irritated. "Any big plans for Valentine's Day?"

"No. I hope Phillip forgets, because I wish I could."

"And why are we so down on the Day of Love? What part bugs you – the flowers or the chocolate?"

"Well, since I haven't brought it up, you probably shouldn't ask me about it, now should you?"

Jake burst out laughing. Something about her expression reminded him more of a stubborn toddler, rather than an angry woman. "I only asked you if you weren't fond of flowers or chocolate. I made no mention of the fact that it's Sirius Black's twenty-eighth birthday."

Isabelle was so shocked that she sat straight up, hitting her head with a painful-sounding thump. "How did you know that?"

"I make it my business to know important things like that," he said lightly. "Lie down. Do you have a cut?"

"No," she winced, taking her hand away from her forehead, where a large, red bump was already forming. Jake looked at it for a few seconds, squinted, then took out his wand and uttered a few charms, which made her head feel better instantly. "How'd you learn that?"

"Brittany. She's always been big into the Healing Arts, and she taught all of us that one when we were little. We were a little...adventurous, and always getting hurt. She hates to see anyone in pain. So, don't ask her about Laura, either."

"You're a little protective of her."

"She's like a little sister to me."

Isabelle smiled internally. No matter what side of the ocean, men were still completely blissfully oblivious about how girls felt about them. Honestly, it gave her a small measure of comfort that it wasn't just Sirius who was so thick. Apparently it was a gender-related pheonemon.

-----

About a week later, when Isabelle sat in the school library doing her Chemistry homework, bored, the random idea hit her to search the school yearbooks for this Laura Norris person. She had an hour to kill before work, and snooping about seemed like far more fun than balancing equations. Besides, the library was nearly deserted, so no one would come along to interrupt her.

She quickly calculated in her head the years that Phillip was at Jamestown High, and pulled out the yearbooks to take back to her secluded corner. When she didn't find anything in his freshman yearbook, she grew discouraged because she didn't want to go to Spotswood for any reason, even research. Though, she couldn't help but giggle at her boyfriend's baby face. Sometimes, he barely passed for sixteen, let alone nearly twenty-two.

He was awfully cute though, she thought with pride. Ever since Christmas holidays, she became quite popular, just because it got around the school that Phillip Spence was her boyfriend. Part of her resented the attention, but honestly, it was really nice to have a _real_ relationship. It made her feel more normal, instead of an exiled witch from England with no family or home to go back to.

On the way from the sophomore pictures to the athletic pages (so she could admire his soccer photographs), she idly leafed through the freshman section. Honestly, the Muggle yearbooks bored her terribly, as the pictures didn't move or do anything remotely interesting. On a whim she looked through the "N" column, and to her great surprise, she found a listing for "Laura Norris".

She ran her finger across the photographs until finding the correct one. A cute, brunette girl with a generous splattering of freckles across her nose stared up at Isabelle through deep chocolate brown eyes. Isabelle flipped to the back to the index, cursing herself for not thinking of that sooner, and looked at all the pictures of the girl.

There was one of her with the FFA, which made Isabelle wrinkle her nose. Why on earth would there be a need for a club for Future Farmers of America, anyway? Laura also was in the Drama Club, and the manager of the varsity boys' soccer team. Other than that, she wasn't overly photographed or popular.

Unlike Phillip, who was absolutely everywhere, especially in his junior year yearbook. The mystery girl began appearing in the pictures alongside him, beaming. She barely came up to the middle of his chest, Isabelle thought jealously with a frown. What on earth could he possibly have seen in such an ordinary Muggle girl like Laura?

Isabelle's mean-spirited thoughts continued until she opened the cover of Phillip's senior year yearbook. The top of the first page read, "In Memoriam", and below it was a large, glossy picture of a typically-sunny faced Laura. Isabelle's heart sunk as she read the page, feeling horribly guilty for being jealous of a dead girl.

The yearbook didn't offer up any more information, and it was nearly time for her to leave for work, so Isabelle somberly returned the yearbooks to the circulation desk. She ploddingly packed up her schoolbooks and headed towards Wiz-Mart. Perhaps it would be a busy evening. That way, she wouldn't have much time to wonder about this Laura. The ghost of one dead woman was enough for her to live under; Isabelle didn't want to fight another one.

-----

Isabelle hated Mondays. The fact that this particular Monday also happened to be Valentine's Day made her mood even worse. Since Severus was still away, choosing to leave her for an extended weekend in a surprising move of trust that she attributed more to his wanting to spend time with Stacey than anything else, she decided to skip school in order to ignore the day altogether. She owled Sarah Lindsay the night before, telling her friend that she caught a cold from a patient at Wiz-Mart.

Unfortunately, she couldn't really _do_ anything or go anywhere, because she was "sick". Not only that, but everything on the television was Valentine's Day related. So she did the only dignified thing she could think of, which was hiding underneath her covers and feeling sorry for herself. She slept on and off until noon, when she vaguely heard a faint pop.

"Isabelle?" came Phillip's voice. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm," fake cough, "sick."

"Yeah, and I'm the Dali Lama," he laughed, sitting on her bed and pulling the covers off her head. He pointed to a large container on the floor. "Brittany wanted me to bring by some soup for you – her famous healing soup – since she heard you weren't feeling well. I didn't have the heart to tell her that you're just throwing a pity party. Besides, I figured you wouldn't turn down a free lunch."

"Oh." Now Isabelle really _did_ feel sick. Sick with guilt and shame for worrying her friends. She wasn't really used to having friends who actually cared for her like that.

"So why are you skipping school?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Why are you skipping school?" she parroted back.

"I'm not. I get out on Mondays at noon," he reminded her, leaning over to brush some stray hairs from her face. He took her into his arms so gently and tenderly that Isabelle's face colored red with shame.

"Why are you so nice to me?"

"Because I'm a glutton for punishment."

She couldn't quite tell if he was joking or not. "I hate Valentine's Day."

"Good thing I didn't get you a damn thing, then," Phillip smirked as her head jerked up in surprise. He twirled a strand of hair around his finger, as was his custom, and enigmatically said, "Don't worry, I have a day planned out that's all us. No random past emotional baggage."

Isabelle bit her lip and looked straight into his sincere blue eyes. "Speaking of, there's, uh, a question I need to ask you."

"Anything."

"Am I – that is," she stuttered, "am I second best to you?"

"What?" He was stunned, having no clue what she meant.

Isabelle hung her head and barely squeaked out, "I know about Laura Norris. I mean, I read about her in the yearbooks, and in the Muggle newspaper."

"I see."

"No, you don't see," she continued, gaining a little confidence. "I thought that this was different, that we were different. I thought there was no one else to compete with for your heart, and it turns out that there is. See, I fell in love with a man once, who was in love with someone else, and it nearly tore me apart. I can't do that again, so if I can't have your heart – your whole heart – than please tell me now, before I get too attached, and--"

"I'm over Laura," Phillip interrupted, leaning his forehead to hers. "Do you know when I knew that for sure?"

Isabelle shook her head no. "When?"

"When I met you at that Christmas party in London. I honestly changed after that, and I think that's why I got so upset when everyone thought you died."

"I don't quite follow."

Over bowls of soup, which was the perfect lunch, considering the day was horribly gloomy and threatening to sleet, Phillip opened up to Isabelle about his own past. How he knew Laura peripherally from Spotswood, and got to know her only because she was totally lost in the Muggle world. She rode horses, and decided to transfer schools because she could compete in the various Muggle competitions.

He talked about how he fell for her late in his sophomore year, and how they were inseparable. Back then, he had no real driving ambition, other than to play soccer, and she just wanted a farm with a stable full of horses. They secretly planned to marry after she graduated high school, settle down in the country outside of town, and live happily ever after.

However, fate had an entirely different plan altogether. At an after-prom party during Phillip's senior year, Laura had a bit too much to drink. She wasn't much of a drinker and had no clue how intoxicated she really was. She needed to go home because of a competition the next morning, and he was far too drunk to take her home. So, considering that her house was less than a mile away, she decided to take her chances.

Laura never made it home. The police ruled that a combination of poor road visibility due to a strong thunderstorm, her impaired senses, and brake failure caused her to veer off the road and into a tree. Phillip couldn't forgive himself for any of it, especially since it was he who changed her brakes last.

After that, he really didn't care about anything at all. He decided on Muggle college only because he got offered a scholarship, and soccer was the only thing that remotely made him happy. Nothing mattered anymore, so when one of his father's colleague's daughters asked him out, he went along with it. He didn't give a damn about Nikki Sullivan, other than her father was powerful and would help him get a high-ranking job after he graduated college.

And she was easy. When he admitted that part, Phillip couldn't bear to meet Isabelle's curious gaze. Nikki was cruel and manipulative, but he didn't mind as long as she put out whenever he wanted. It wasn't a very happy existence, but without Laura, he figured it was the best he was going to have.

Then came the invitation to join the Sullivan family at the Ministry of Magic's annual Christmas party. The only reason he agreed to it is because Laura always wanted to visit England, especially London. He planned to take her there on their honeymoon, so he figured that he'd go to honor her memory. At least, that was his twisted logic.

While Nikki went off shopping with her mother, Phillip walked the streets, visiting various places that Laura always talked about going to. But, he wasn't quite as sad as he thought he'd be. It wasn't nearly as traumatic as he anticipated.

Not being upset bothered him far more than if he was devastated vising London without her. By the time he got to the party, he was in a foul mood. So he went off by himself to stew, which is what he was busy doing when Isabelle accidentally sat on him.

"I realized that I wasn't that upset because I was over Laura," he said, looking up at Isabelle. After eating, they sprawled out in the living room, where he rested his head in her lap. He liked it when she ran her fingers through his hair; it soothed him.

"I mean," he continued, "I'll always love her. She was my first love. But when I was in London, with you, you were really nice to me. Even though you said yourself that you'd never see me again, so you had no reason to be. And back then, I wasn't a very nice guy. I didn't deserve it. I wanted to be someone who a girl like you, or Laura, would actually go out with."

"Heh. I'm no angel," Isabelle admitted, making his hair stand straight out on end.

"So anyway, I was really pissed off when your family fell apart, because it seemed like every girl I actually cared about dies. Everyone thought I was in denial when I said you were, well, you."

"And here we are," Isabelle concluded.

"Here we are," Phillip repeated, sitting up to kiss her. "I'm yours, I promise. Now, since you're sick and obviously in no condition to go out, how do you want to spend the rest of the day?"

"What are my options?" she giggled, watching him try to fix his hair.

"We could..." his voice trailed off, as he kissed her again. He thought what was on his mind was completely obvious. "There's nothing on TV."

"True."

-----

_The small closet was black – pitch black. So dark that it wrapped around her, like a hot, suffocating blanket. Isabelle hated the dark, but she refused to cry. No matter what, she wouldn't let Petunia know that she was afraid. Even though she was hungry and desperately needed a bathroom. _

_She sat quietly, feverishly praying that someone would come let her out soon. It wasn't her fault that the tea cup went flying across the room. She simply got angry and it just...happened. But Petunia couldn't understand her anyway, so she didn't even try. Instead, she quietly allowed her sister to push her into the large linen closet, figuring that if she didn't protest, she wouldn't be spanked, or worse. Her sister could have quite a temper when provoked. _

_A small squeaking, followed by a rustling, interrupted the silence. Isabelle knew it was a mouse, and was petrified of them, even more than Petunia. She began beating on the door, screaming for someone to find her. But, no one came. She screamed until she was hoarse, and even then, she didn't stop. _

_"__Please, let me out!" she croaked. "I promise, I'll be good, I swear! Please!" _

"Isabelle, wake up," Phillip said loudly, shaking her roughly. "Isabelle!"

"I swear, it won't happen again!" she screamed in English, switching languages in her half-awake state.

"You're having a nightmare," he told her, conjuring up a lantern. He waited until its soft light illuminated the room before speaking again. "See? Everything's fine now."

"I hate the dark," she shuddered, practically leaping into his arms. She waited for him to ask what her dream was about, but to her relief, he didn't. He simply held her quietly until she was nearly asleep.

When he moved to leave, she clung to him, and pleaded, "Please don't leave me."

"I'm trying to be a gentleman here," Phillip pointed out, even though he definitely didn't want to be, in any way, shape or form.

"Please."

He couldn't tell her no.

-----

In fact, from then on, whenever she had a nightmare, which was nearly every night, she immediately Apparated into Phillip's bedroom and curled up beside him. He'd spend a good half hour or so calming her down, then get to her go back to her own apartment. She'd beg him to come with, just to make sure everything was _really_ all right. At that point, she always flashed her big, frightened green eyes and he ended up in bed with her.

Which was torture, frankly. Ever since they'd gotten together at Christmas, they hadn't slept together. Not even remotely close. He really wanted to bring up the subject, considering that they were practically living together, but didn't want to jeopardize what they did have together. But spending his nights next to a girlfriend he couldn't really touch wasn't fun.

Not to mention that they'd been together before, so he had a very good recollection of exactly what that experience was like. In the back of his mind, he figured that had something to do with it. Either that, or she was one of _those_ girls, the ones who weren't willing to go that far. But she always said that she was no angel, so that didn't make any sense.

Phillip's mind circled with those thoughts for hours, until the sun rose and he could justifiedly excuse himself. He got along with Severus just fine, but if the older wizard caught him in Isabelle's bed, no matter how chaste the circumstances, the outcome wouldn't be pleasant. After Apparating back to his place, he usually took an extremely cold shower. He didn't remember what a warm one felt like at this point.

Once, he was so tired that instead of using magical means, he took his chances sneaking out and walking the fifty or so feet to his own apartment. Unfortunately for him, Thomas was awake early for some reason and started joking on him, insinuating that he was doing the Walk of Shame. Instead of correcting his brother, Phillip let him think that he was sleeping with Isabelle, even though he definitely wasn't. Less embarrassing that way.

By the time Saint Patrick's Day arrived, he had completely given up on ever seeing her less than completely clothed. He asked her to make sure she had the night off from work, and surprised her with a picnic dinner beside the river underneath the stars. When it got chilly, he lit a small fire and the two roasted marshmallows and generally enjoyed each other's company.

"I told you I had something planned," he whispered into her ear. His breath tickled her ear, and she involuntarily shivered. "Cold?"

"No. This is really romantic, except that there's no green beer. It's Saint Patrick's Day, after all," she joked, licking bits of toasted marshmallow off her fingers. Phillip couldn't watch.

"Who says this is it?" he teased back, pulling her to her feet.

When they got back to their apartment complex, they snuck to the roof, where they stayed outside until nearly one o'clock in the morning. Phillip managed to find various recordings of her favorite Celtic artists, so they danced and drank a bit too much, only quitting when they were too dizzy to continue. They laid side by side on a blanket looking at the night sky until the world righted itself.

Then they snuck into Isabelle's bedroom window via the fire escape, and Phillip began to make for the door. She caught his robe sleeve, kissing him until he really wanted to give in. But since he was seriously trying to be good, and virtuous, and such, he gently pushed her away.

"Stay," she pouted, pulling him back to her.

"I can't," he said honestly. "I can't do this anymore, spending nights beside you and not--"

"I really want you to stay. Please, be with me," Isabelle bit her lip, deciding to come right out with it. She leaned over and whispered, "That's my polite English way of asking you to shag me rotten. Want to have a go?"

-----

"He turned me down," Isabelle said flatly, shuffling her feet along the gymnasium floor. Sarah Lindsay stopped mid-stride and stared at her in disbelief.

"He did _what?_" she squeaked, before starting to walk again.

Since it was an unusually cold, dreary March, the P.E. classes generally kept indoors. Everyone was left to their own devices, as long as they did something athletically-oriented. Most of the ninth grade girls walked around the gym floor, in order to admire the boys. Some went into the weight room, to pretend to lift weights when they actually wanted to stare at the guys.

And some, like Brittany, played around on the gymnastics equipment. Not being particularly gymnastically oriented or interested in ninth grade boys, Isabelle and Sarah Lindsay used the time to catch up on things, since Isabelle worked constantly and didn't have much free time. Brittany usually stayed away, because the talk always centered around their boyfriends, and she didn't want to even _think_ about her older brothers that way.

"Tucked me into bed like James did when I was a little girl and stayed up too late to put myself to bed. And then, went home. How humiliating is that?" Isabelle lamented.

"Pretty bad."

"Maybe he just doesn't want me. After all, it's only been that one time..."

Sarah Lindsay stopped for the second time in that many minutes. This time, she was certain that she had earwax stopping up her ears, or went temporarily insane. "You mean to tell me that you and Phillip haven't...in all this time?"

"Nope," Isabelle confirmed. "He hasn't even made a move, other than snogging. All those weekends, alone, nothing."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" her friend exclaimed, unaware of the irony of her statement. "I've been staying away, putting up with my crazy mother, for nothing?"

"I'm afraid so. I would've said something, but I've been too embarrassed. I mean, he's...and I'm...maybe he thinks I'm too young for him, and he's trying to find a decent way to chuck me," Isabelle theorized.

"But you're eighteen in three months. Definitely legal at that point. Besides, you're English, so American rules don't apply," Sarah Lindsay pointed out.

"Irish," she corrected, pouting.

"Half-Irish at that, and your nationality is English, you little snot," she teased, knowing that Isabelle was itching to hex her for that one. "Either way, it doesn't change my point that over there, you're definitely an adult."

"But he's almost twenty-two."

"Women mature much faster than men. Everyone knows that," Sarah Lindsay said, nodding her head wisely.

"So true," Isabelle agreed. "Maybe he doesn't want me because of the last time we were together. I threw myself at him. Maybe he thinks I'm a bit of a," she lowered her voice, "a tart."

"A pastry?"

"No, that I'm easy. I had that reputation, undeservedly," her face darkened, "at Hogwarts. Maybe Phillip heard about it and now he doesn't want a girl who'd shag anyone."

Sarah Lindsay laughed out loud, trying to be serious, but it simply wasn't in her nature. "Haven't y'all had the talk?"

"What talk?" Isabelle puzzled.

"The list talk. You know, where you talk about who you've been with, past romantic relationships, times you've been in love, that stuff."

"Uh, no! I'm English, for crying out loud!" she hissed, absolutely horrified.

"Now you claim it," Sarah Lindsay joked, giggling behind her hand. "Come on, this is the eighties. You need to be empowered and take control over your sexual destiny."

"What magazine did you read that from?"

"Can't remember," she shrugged. "Meanwhile, if that's what's bothering Phillip, then tell him the truth. Besides, isn't he always saying that your past doesn't matter to him?"

"True. Which is good, because I don't exactly want to air my dirty laundry. Maybe I was a horrible shag," Isabelle pondered, frowning. That possibility hadn't occurred to her, and was quite a kick in the ego.

"But you were drunk!" Sarah Lindsay said in her friend's defense.

"Well, I'm not that experienced, considering. The only boy I've been with for any length of time was a long time ago. He didn't complain, but maybe Phillip's much more picky. Being as he's older and all."

"He porked that Sullivan slut," she said rather crassly, but that particular individual didn't deserve any sort of politeness.

"Yes, but she _is_ a tart, so probably a good shag," Isabelle pointed out. "Unlike me, apparently."

The teacher blew his whistle for the end of class, so everyone began migrating towards the locker rooms to dress out. Isabelle sadly changed back into her jeans and tee-shirt, stuffing her gym suit in her duffel bag. At least she wouldn't have to see Phillip tonight, because she was closing the apothecary. With any luck, she could pick up a shift Saturday so she could avoid him.


End file.
